Unemployment Blues

My co-workers and I were told about a year ago that we would lose our jobs starting in Spring of 2010. True enough, come April, the first wave of separation splashed through the office, washing me away with it.

I've been unemployed much longer than I ever expected. The jobs just aren't there.

Congress is stalled right now--and the fight isn't over whether or not unemployment benefits should be extended, rather the argument is about how to fund it.

My co-workers and I do have a slight advantage: Our jobs were lost due to trade, and as such, we are entitled to additional benefits. When my state benefits end in December, my TAA benefits will kick in. The check each week isn't much--enough to cover rent, car payments and health insurance. I've had to borrow from family, sell my possessions, and cut down to the bare minimum just to make ends meet.

American's work hard. And while there are some out there that abuse the system, I have to say the people I have met don't. They are desperate to find work. They are willing to swallow their pride and take a job in retail or fast food, despite the Masters degree in their back pocket.

Congress doesn't have to extend unemployment benefits, but they do need to produce more quality jobs that American's can be proud of doing. Stop looking the other way when companies ship our jobs overseas.

Millions of people are unemployed and have exhausted their savings, 401K, and retirement funds. What are we going to do when these individuals reach retirement age?

Something needs to happen, and happen fast. This is supposed to be the Dream Land. A place where work is plentiful and people succeed. Well, I ask you. Is this the land of opportunity you once dreamed of?

I think it's difficult for our elected officials to really feel the depth of this situation. I doubt any of those Senators have ever been unemployed and had to depend on government aid. If they had been, they wouldn't be so quick to vote against extending benefits. I certainly never thought I would be in this position, and until I was, had no idea just how draining it can be. Emotionally, financially, physically. Your spirit starts to die a little each day. It's heartbreaking.

Just my opinions about the state of America right now. I'm disappointed in our government. Our people are hurting. Either extend benefits or bring quality jobs to America. You can't expect us to survive without one or the other.

Terrified

Thanksgiving weekend is over and I once again found myself glued to my computer most of the day, looking for a job.

The thought that I may never find a job enters my mind often. And that thought is terrifying. I don't know how people survive on unemployment compensation. It's barely enough to cover my rent, car payment, and health care. I have to borrow from family for money for food and utilities. I know I'm not the only person in this situation, and some certainly have it worse than me. Yet when you sit in front of a computer, day after day, alone in your apartment, searching for work--it gets scary and lonely.

My journey to freedom seems to be on a bumpy road as of late. I'm exhausted from dealing with my anxiety and panic disorder. I'm starved for affection in the form of a warm hug. I long for the days when I had a steady income and my biggest worries were what to get people for the holidays.

During my long struggle with anxiety, I have turned to God only to find disappointment. I have now turned my back on organized religion, but there's a part of me that wonders if that was a wise choice. I believe there is a higher power at work in the universe. I'm just not sure the Christian interpretation is correct. I've found that not having something solid to believe in has made things difficult. I believe, but in what? Who do I pray to at night when my mind just won't rest? Who hears my silent sobs of desperation? Does anyone? I have to believe someone hears me... but who?

The journey is an uphill climb and the path is steep and rocky. I lose my footing often. But I'm resilient. I have to keep picking myself up and going forward because I believe that once I reach the top, I'll find the one thing I've been missing for so many years: happiness.

So, Dear God, Dear Spirit So Bright I Can't See You, Please hear my heart. Please help me. Please save me.

Lots to be thankful for...

Despite the current obstacles in my life, I'm surprisingly happy. I feel optimistic, even in the face of uncertainty. I've been blessed with a loving, supportive family, a great friend and mentor, cuddly cat purrs, and so many things to be grateful for in my life.

Defying gravity.

Taking a chance.

I received an email this evening, completely unexpected. It was from a marketing agency I had applied to over a month ago. Despite not having the experience, they were impressed with my cover letter and want me to call tomorrow to set up a time to meet. Exciting!

Only time will tell if I get that job or not. I've learned that I can't control the future, no matter how hard I try. Sure, I can influence it through my actions and reactions, but I believe fate has a firm grasp on some things as well. I'm done worrying about the past and the things I can not change. I'm done constantly fretting about the future. All I can do is live in the moment. The universe will lead me where I need to go.

Short post, but I need to hit the sack. Road trip to cbus in the morning! Happy Gobble Gobble Day! :)

I Wish I Had an Instruction Book

It's been a while since I last wrote. My apologies.

I feel like I'm playing the "hurry up and wait" game. Dealing with the government will do that to a person. I can't begin to tell you how many times I've had to fill out paperwork. It's getting really old.

I had to take a career workshop last Monday and Tuesday. It wasn't as bad as I had feared. I actually learned some things about resumes and interviewing. And apparently I get the opportunity to test them out tomorrow at 9:00AM. I have an interview for a position I didn't apply to. Strange, huh? It's a job through a staffing agency, and really, the recruiter didn't tell me much about the job. I've done some research on the company and found a job description. The only thing I'm concerned about is one of the qualifications that states "must have 2 to 3 years of inside sales experience". Ummm... I'm pretty sure I don't have that, and I'm not sure I can sell. Maybe. We'll see how much of the job is sales and how much is administrative.

Next Monday I meet with someone to discuss possible training through TRA. I'm frustrated, though. I doubt they would pay for graduate school, so I've been looking into other career choices and there's nothing out there that excites me. Or if it excites me, the job outlook is bleak. I might be able to talk them into letting me take a Professional Writing Certificate program.

I'm feeling discouraged, but I think I'm just tired. I need to prepare for this interview tomorrow, but my mind is wandering. I thought maybe writing would help, but it's not. Time for bed, I suppose. I'll get up early to prepare.

Another Set Back or EHFAR?

I got called to the HR office on Monday, my fourth day at work. Apparently my supervisor didn't feel that I would be aggressive enough when it came to making phone calls for collections. Perhaps he was right, although I don't think that three days of training on the computer was really enough time to truly access my skills. The news was shocking to me and feels like a major set back. I thought my days of worrying about my finances were over. I thought I could finally take a break from sending out countless resumes every week.

I was devastated, to say the least. I went into auto pilot and left town for a day. Which makes me wonder if this is really a set back, or one of those EHFAR moments.

Everything Happens For A Reason. EHFAR.

Why do I think it's EHFAR? Let me make a list:

1. This job made me drive in downtown Cleveland. Something I have always feared doing.
2. The job made me realize that I have a heart larger than I ever expected. I can't call people and ask them for money. I'm so disgusted with a world that puts more importance on money than on giving someone a break.
3. After 2+ years, I finally drove to Athens.

If I hadn't lost my job (or if my assignment hadn't ended), I wouldn't have had the courage to drive four hours to visit my mom. My first major panic attack happened while driving to Columbus, February 14, 2009. I still hate thinking about that day; it brings back so many memories. Hard, painful, terrifying memories. And as I was driving the same highway yesterday, I felt myself get tense when I passed the roadside rest where I had stopped on that horrible day. I had gone into the bathroom, cried, pleaded with a higher power, then got mad at myself. I was confused--I had no idea what was wrong with me and I was so angry that I couldn't get control of myself. I always loved driving, yet the trip that day was the most difficult thing I have ever experienced. I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to drive long distances again. Losing my job yesterday proved to me that I could.

Seems weird to be thankful for being dismissed from a job, but I learned a lot about myself. I am stronger than I thought. And I am more empathetic than I ever imagined. I don't feel like a victim today. I feel like I faced the horrors of this disorder and I came out the winner.

I'm learning to let go. I've always said I believed that EHFAR. It's time I started living that way. I don't know if my unemployment benefits will be extended. I don't know if I'll get approval to take some graphic design classes. I don't even know what tomorrow will bring. But for the first time in a really, really long time, I'm OK with that.

Ups and Downs

I just read my previous post about the ogre. Then I read the title of this journal.

It is true that I have set forth on a journey, hoping to find freedom from this depression, anxiety, and panic. I never once, however, assumed the path would be easy.

There will be days when I am down and I think it's important to write about those days. Hopefully, I will also have good days, and I will write about those as well.

I told Mr. A about my thoughts of ending everything. It was the first time I had ever admitted that to anyone, although I'm sure some have suspected. It's frightening to experience those thoughts. Mr. A pointed out something very important: I'm still here.

Somehow, despite the pain and the horrible lows, I manage to pick myself up and keep moving forward. I have to believe that there is a part of me, perhaps trapped somewhere under all the pain, that wants to survive. A part of me that is fighting so hard to defeat the pain. There has to be... otherwise I'd just give up and end it all.

Maybe this is what Mr. A means by focusing more on Patty. Patty is the one trying to keep me moving forward, trying to convince me not to give up, while Nate is telling me all the reasons why I should just throw in the towel. I have been giving Nate a lot of power and ignoring Patty. But Patty comes through anyway. She's the reason I rally myself to get out of bed, to stop crying, and to try to find a new way of looking at things.

Patty has a tough job. Not only is she trying to keep the adult me moving forward, she's also there comforting my wounded inner child. And Nate is just sitting there eating his chicken, having a heyday with my emotions. Nate is a nasty little guy. Manipulative. Cunning. Powerful.

Patty is resilient, however. And determined. She will never give up on me. I need to remember that. She is my most powerful ally. She has seen me through it all. She knows I didn't have a good childhood and she knows why I loved my grandpa more than anyone in this world. She knows my fears and understands where they come from. She also knows that I have a reason to be in this world, and she will fight forever to make sure I stay in it.

Mr. A gave me a homework assignment. I have to write another scenario between Nate and Patty. He told me to have Patty knock the shit out of Nate, and at first I thought that was a bit too violent. I had always pictured Patty as a mousy gal, and Nate as a big lazy baboon who talked too much in my ear. I think I was wrong. Nate is more powerful than I gave him credit for--after all he is the one causing this misery. I was wrong about Patty too. She's much stronger than I ever expected. Maybe Mr. A will get his story after all.

The Ogre

Sometimes I feel like the ugly ogre everyone runs away from.

They see my exterior--my weight, my ugliness.

They see my anger, shyness, isolation.

They would never look further to see my pain, loneliness, fear.

They would never imagine that their kindness could shatter my bubble and free my spirit.

They have no idea that a hug would make me realize that I am alive.

Ogres are former people who got hurt so much that they transformed in order to shield themselves from the constant pain. No one cared enough to kiss their wounds, to heal their hurt.

No one paid attention as they turned into something they weren't supposed to be.

**************
I've been feeling quite down this evening. Thoughts about the point of living this life keep invading my mind. People endure by having a balance. They face incredibly low lows, yet also enjoy amazingly high highs. Mr. Adams once told me that life is about opposites--one can't exist without the other. Every pain is mirrored by a pleasure. Every high is mirrored by a low. A yin yang, if you will.

But those of us suffering from depression only experience one side of that coin. The negative side. We do have our fair share of high moments, but we manage to look at them with reservation. I recently got a job after seven months of unemployment. Instead of being joyful, I'm full of angst. I don't like the job. I don't like the location. I do like the people, but I can already see myself putting walls up to keep them out.

On the flip side, when we experience lows, we put our full attention on them. Molehills become vast mountain ranges. We start to see our world as one big negative experience after another, and living a life like that is terrifying. It makes you question your place in this world. Makes you wonder if this life is really worth living.

I fear life. I'm terrified of getting sick with some horrible disease and being all alone. I don't have many people in my life. There are days when I swear a single hug would heal my wounds. There's no one to hug me, though. Those that would, I have already warned that I don't like to be touched, and wouldn't you know, they respect that boundary. They don't know, though, that my telling them I don't like to be touched is a knee jerk reaction. I've said it for years, and it's to the point where I don't even realize I'm saying it until it's already been said. I fear letting someone in, yet it's the one thing I crave more than anything in this world. I want someone to care about me. Someone to see my deep wounds and to just hug me and tell me everything is going to be alright. I need someone to reassure me, because life is too scary for me to navigate alone.

What a shitty situation: Needing someone genuine and authentic in my life, yet being too scared to let anyone in. I don't know how to trust.

No one paid attention as the little soul turned into an angry ogre. Something she wasn't meant to be.

A Journey Begins With A Step

Physically, I'm a mess.
Emotionally, even worse.

The purpose of this journal is to have a place to chronicle my journey to happiness. I'm not happy with myself. I'm a very lonely person with deep, painful wounds.

While I think it's important for me to walk this path to self-acceptance and self-love by myself, I do have support waiting in the wings. Mr. Adams has been a great influence and mentor. When I get stuck, he helps me find another solution. He challenges my deeply seeded thoughts and asks me to look at situations from different perspectives. He may never know the impact he's had on my life in the short time I've known him, but he has saved my life more than once. And for that, I will be forever grateful.

My thoughts this evening have stirred up some childhood memories. Specifically, baton lessons.

When I was 7-years old, my mother signed me up for baton lessons. I liked twirling that thin metal stick around and making it spin in the light. We learned routines and would occasionally perform in parades in our hometown. Our uniforms were pink leotards with white silk skirts and vests, white cowboy boots with pink poms. I loved how the silk felt and the fringe on the skirt tickled my legs. Even though I was a shy child, I enjoyed baton.

While driving one afternoon, Mom and I were talking about baton practice. Mom told me that I needed to learn how to hold my stomach in, especially when I wore my uniform. I was 7-years old. I had no idea how to hold my stomach in, but I knew what the underlining message was: Mom was telling me I looked fat.

I was always a chubby kid. I was 10 pounds when I was born! I was always the biggest kid in my class and I guess, along with the teasing from my classmates and my mom's passive aggressive comments, I never felt accepted.

Now in my 30's, I am scared about my weight yet I never do anything to change my habits. I was wondering about this when my thoughts turned to that day driving in the car with Mom. The words never spoken resonated loudly through my mind. My mother was ashamed of how her 7-year old daughter looked in a pink leotard.

My mother grew up without a mother and was bounced around between relatives and foster homes. She never had a consistent, loving mother-figure, so I can hardly blame her for how she raised me. I believe she did the best she could. That doesn't mean, however, that she raised me well.

Unconditional love and empathy were not seen in my childhood home. And now, as an adult, I am struggling to find my self-worth. I often feel like nothing I do is good enough, although I don't know who's standards I'm trying to live up to. I always seem to add a footnote to my statements.

• I got into law school on a tuition-free scholarship.* (*But anyone can do that.)
• I can draw well.* (*But there are a lot of people who draw better.)
• I am a good writer.* (*But isn't everyone?)

My goal is to find happiness with myself. Part of this includes loving who I am today, and recognizing that I need to lose weight in order for my body to be happy and healthy. It's not an image thing anymore. I hate how society places so much emphasis on outer appearances. I have to try my best to ignore media and to ignore my inner voices (Nate* LOVES to read all the tabloids!) and to just focus on me.

Hard to do? Hell yes. If it was easy, I'd have done it years ago.
Will I fall? Of course. But that's when I get up, dust myself off, and keep moving forward.
Does it require change? It has to. I have to change the way I think about myself. And for this, I will need help. That's where Mr. Adams comes in.

Nothing in life worth having is easily obtained. None of us have a perfect life, and at the end of this journey my life still won't be perfect. Perfection is not my goal, however. I just want to live and enjoy my life. Self-love and happiness is my goal.

And so the journey begins. This entry is the first step.

*Nate is my negative inner voice. I'll introduce his opposite, Patty, in another entry.