Running Low on Confidence

It’s funny to think that a year ago I was living with my parents in Minnesota, waiting anxiously to find out when I would be having a major surgery that I knew even then would change my life forever. My apartment had been cleared of my personal effects, all in boxes shipped to my parents or bags in my friend’s basement. A loser sublettor was living here rent-free despite our contract, and would be kicked out in just over a month. I look around the kitchen, the living room, and reflect on how different my life is from the one I’d imagined. I’ve been unemployed for over a year, now. I remember talking to my sister about month before my surgery and telling her I’d be back to work three, four max, months after it was done. She said to be prepared to be recovering long enough that I wouldn’t be working until June. She was right. It wasn’t until late June that I felt recovered enough to start my job hunt in earnest. What I hadn’t planned on was the job market. It’s been almost six months and I’ve had two interviews, neither of which panned out. I’ve applied to at least a hundred jobs, probably more, but still I sit at the kitchen table that has become my “office”, looking and looking, feeling more downtrodden by the day. It seems that a person who’s been out of work since October of last year with only the explanation “Writer” listed on her resume is undesirable. That’s unfortunate. Really unfortunate. I know the economy is dreadful, but experiencing it first-hand is completely different. Our lease is up on the shoebox apartment I’ve loved so much February 5th. Only two months left. What then? We’ve been talking about moving. We both love Denver and so many of John’s friends live here, but the jobs don’t. So then where? Right now the thought is Minneapolis or Seattle. We’re not sure yet, but wherever we go, we need to figure it out soon. It’s a stressful way to re-enter the working world. Sometimes I get nervous that I won’t be good since I’m so rusty, but I know that’s not true. I’ll be fine. I work hard and I’m a quick learner. I think I’m just trying to figure out why no one seems to want to give me a chance. I know that sounds pathetic and whiny and I know that it’s not me, it’s the economy, but after so many rejections, so few calls back, it’s hard not to take it personally. I inhale, I exhale. Air rushes into my lungs, oxygen filling my sedentary body before I blow it back out through my lips, producing an exasperated sighing noise. When will this end? It feels like never. These days I find myself expecting not to get a job. Hopefully it’ll be better somewhere else. I have to believe that, because clearly Denver isn’t working. It breaks my heart to tear the man I love away from the place he now calls home, even though we both know it’s best. It’s not over yet, we still have two months left to find a job here, but with each day that passes with a silent phone, an empty inbox, the applications I send, the calls I make, the networking events I attend seem more and more futile. I pray for us to find something, but maybe this means that we’re not supposed to be here anymore. Maybe our path leads elsewhere. As long as we’re together, I know we’ll make it. I just wish it would happen sooner.