There comes a point in every job search where I actually think I will never work again. This is usually the point where I start applying for jobs at Starbucks and Target – which are fine jobs, but out of my experience and skill set. If they’d have me, I’d accept in a heartbeat, but they take one look at my work experience and know I’m only going to stay until my next opportunity comes along, so why sink any money into training me to begin with? Can’t really blame them there.
Here’s the thing – and it’s embarrassing as fuck to admit this – but we are scary broke. Like losing-our-home-soon-can’t-pay-any-bills-overdrawn-bank-account-only-purchased-groceries-and-Pull-Ups-because-I-wrote-some-résumés-for-cash fucking broke. It’s humiliating and demeaning and really makes my college degree feel useless. So why I am sharing about this? Because if I don’t, I will actually lose my mind. My relationship with money has almost always been feast or famine, but I have always managed to eek something out in the 11th hour. Now, however, I am in the 25th hour, I used my lifeline, and I am at the end of my goddamn rope. It’s not about me – it’s about The Juggernaut. I can skip meals and wear clothes from 20 years ago. I can go without. He’s just a little guy who needs food to grow and clothes because he grows out of everything in 20 minutes and he needs to feel SAFE. The last thing I feel right now is safe but I am trying my hardest and damnedest to make sure he never feels like the floor is going to fall out beneath him because that is the worst feeling to have when you’re a kid. I’m the mom and it is my mission in life that he feels safe.
So I keep on muddling through. I keep sending off script ideas and I hear, “Been there, done that.”. I submit my résumé and portfolio and hear, “You’re not exactly what we’re looking for.”. I try not to cry hysterically when I get five rejections before 9:00 am. I’m exhausted and doubting everything about myself, especially my talent. It’s a gift I have squandered at times, but it’s always come through for me. Now I’m full of doubt and it’s paralyzing, but I’m trying to…just. Keep. SWIMMING.
Here is my battle cry, Job-Yet-To-Be-Named. I’m coming for you and when we meet, you’re going to be my bitch.