Being Rejected ad infinitium

 So, I just applied for a few more jobs. And also received a few more rejection letters. Those sting. With relationships, as far as I think I can remember, outwardly being told that you're not wanted hurts - but what I'm finding with this ridiculous job search is that the non-response is even more crappy. Being rejected 5 times a day every day for two weeks just sucks, ya know? 

The Dear John letter feels a bit more palatable these days. Most everyone is wanting to work remotely, right? Surely all of the writers and semi-creatives are home like me looking for work. Maybe it's just that I want a lot. Is working from home, making decent money, with an open schedule too much to ask? Oh, and it's also got to be something I'm passionate about, skilled in, and proficient at. Gosh. I wouldn't even hire myself under those circumstances. 

The idea that I need work is because I'm not really doing anything productive during the day. I am available for helping the kids if they need it, but they don't really. Elijah mostly just needs help staying on task. We're slowly digging deeper into debt while I'm slowly becoming an expert solitaire player. I do workout. I do work on myself. I meditate and stretch my body. But those things are more so becoming part of my nightly routine after the kids go to bed. I have a nice chunk of five hours or so that I could put toward building our family's survival quotient. 

The big fear is that I'll bust my ass to get a job making $200/week and then some part of the cares act will get passed and I'll just barely miss out on getting $700/week in unemployment benefits. 

Here's the deal, I do feel like there's a job out there for me. I just have to find it. It's like a game of hide & seek. It's hiding and I'm seeking. As of right now, there is no scent on the tail. There is no clue or strong desire to gone in one direction or the other. I naturally gravitate toward writing because it's what I "feel like I should be doing", but gosh, that's so intuitive and hard to nail down. I'm a speaker, a storyteller. I convey emotion through communication, but yet, the right role for me isn't coming to fruition. Try as I might, I'm not able to create my own role. 

So, I'll continue my search. For now, though, I'm here writing. It's boring. It's lamenting. But it's where I am. And honestly, I love the idea that no one is going to read what I'm putting here. I long for a safe space and this will have to be it. 

She Writes Again! Again.

 For me, writing is a bit like the yo-yo dieting to get healthier. I know I should be doing it. Something deep inside reminds me that that the keys are my fingertips' home, but yet, well... you know. Things come up. Excuses get plentiful and everything other than the thing I should be doing are the things I do. It's easier to... not. 

Why? Maybe it's because I'm an external processor. Opening up my heart & mind through the tippity tap of the typing feels a little vulnerable. Maybe not too sure what's going to come out. Who's going to see it? I'm a bit altogether feeling exposed and unsafe. 

So, it's almost the middle of December of 2020. Nine months after COVID-19 really landed and began to proliferate on American soil. At first, it was scary. Hell, it's never not been scary. But the fear now is different than it was. Back when it first hit, everything stopped. We were all shocked & stunned. We turned to our loved ones, our families, we banded together and we hunkered down and dutifully did what the experts told us to do. 

But then people got sick of that. Article after article began to write about "quarantine fatigue" and "compliance fatigue". Conspiracy theories exploded. The summer was promised to get better with the warmer weather. It didn't. Holidays came & went. Numbers kept climbing. School went back to in-person learning. Then remote. Then in-person. Then remote. Churches opened. Then closed. Then opened again. So did restaurants, workplaces, movie theaters, and shopping establishments. Who knows what to do anymore. Stimulus checks and government relief. Unemployment and PPE. Numbers are still climbing. Quarantine is now something that seems like people only do when they've been exposed or suspect that they have been. Compliance fatigue is still rampant. So, for me, the fear is still here, but it's different. 

I've done the quintessential ENFP Enneagram Seven thing: pick up hobbies. Reading a ton of books. My choices have been neuroscience of all things and stumbled upon a mommy blogger turned author. Glennon Doyle's latest book, Untamed, is one that really struck me. I read one or two of her previous books... but I was only able to make it through the first 3 chapters or so before I stopped altogether and decided that I absolutely must purchase it. I'm sure I'll write about that one day. Other than that... unbeknownst to me, everyone had begun a sourdough starter. Whoops. So much for staying unique. I've kept with my working out... trying to self-teach myself to lift weights (with no information whatsoever, might I add). I'm just picking up these heavy things and putting them back down again. I am definitely stronger. I can feel it and see it in different areas. Stress eating to compensate. I've found meditation and am working on doing that each day. Ummmmm - what else. I don't know. I really do a lot of things when I'm sitting around doing nothing. 

The biggest thing that I've accomplished in these shitty nine months is to learn to listen to my heart and truly embrace self-care. I mean sheesh... is anyone killing it right now? Is anyone's marriage not affected? Are everyone's kids just loving life right now? 

I applied for a few work-from-home jobs, so we'll see how that pans out. But really other than that... that's that. I'll meet you back here soon enough.