The Suck-it List

In a bromance with two seasoned brilliant actors, two old men make a pact when they are about to die.  One of the old men has money.  The other old man has legacy.  If they make it out, they'll do everything they can to really live it up.

Really living it up on unemployment means that you still drink coffee in beautiful shoes (that exist from a past life) hoping nobody realizes that half of the leather is polished in Sharpie.  Living it up on unemployment means wearing your good perfume casually (because it is going sour)  and using  expensive hairspray to keep your cheap makeup on at interviews.  

When unemployed, there are there days that it seems literally impossible to attain, or sometimes even attempt, the most mundane goals.  Eventually, people catch on to the telling signs (like dressing up to go to the grocery store).  

So, you let yourself go and end up like the old rich man in his own hospital with terminal illness.  Only you're on your couch, in your pajamas (for the third day) and completely broke, trying to figure out how you got there.

The answer is simple:

Nothing is as dehumanizing as being unemployed

In my search for re-humanization, I developed a tool to help create realistic goals, as well as a means by which to measure them.  I call this:   

The Suck-it List

The Suck-it List is composed of much smaller (and hopefully more attainable) goals.  Today, mine included such items as:

• Get off the couch (aka: my ass)
• Shower/wear clothes that are not pajama oriented  
• Look for a job

The problem with the suck-it list, is that, -at the time, there really seems no point in doing any of it.  Questions like, "what could possibly make me feel worse than setting myself up for more rejection?" and, "why would I want to change out of these sweats when they're so comfortable!" become standard de-motivating procedure.

That's when you psych yourself out with the "if/then" plan; kinda like the old guy handshake of crossed IV tubes (does that count as a blood-pact?)

• If I go to the gym today then I don't have to do the dishes
• or much of anything else; that stupid, evil, torture device will leave me exhausted or dead!
• If I shower and look human then I can get a coffee 
• no double-capp-latt-slim-shot-steamed-imported stuff, -just a coffee
• If I apply for two jobs at the coffee shop then I can have a pastry too; a cheap one
• or keep my eye out for teenage girls who only eat one bite in front of people anyway.

As stupid as it sounds, this worked for me.  It took me all summer to do it, but by late fall I finally got out of my slump.  For me the list worked for the following reasons:

• I HATE the gym, but not as much as I hate muffin tops, so went and worked out as soon as I could, -to get it out of the way
• Showering (preferably after the gym) for the prospect of coffee was way more motivating than for the sake of getting clean.  Stupid, I know... Gross?  Well, it's not like I was doing anything that required movement at the time!  Or going anywhere!  
• OK.  Gross wins.  It was gross.
• Bringing my computer somewhere else had two benefits.  FREE INTERNET!!! and; of course, coffee; I usually forgot about the pastry.

I'd usually keep working once I started.  Without distractions, frustrations, and reminders of previous success constantly surrounding me, I could work for long periods of time.  Once I got there, I'd usually do more than I set out to do.  Of course I'd toggle between job-searches, but I'd write too.  Nothing spectacular, necessarily; but I was writing again.

Being unemployed was and remains one of the worst experiences of my life.  But it doesn't mean my life has to end there.  Trust me, there are still days I choose the couch and pajamas,  but they're getting fewer.

I'm not ready for a "Bucket List" of my own yet; and really, who could afford one?

Jake and Elwood... and Amanda. Hit it.

The Blues Brothers had it all.  They had the band, they had the sunglasses, and they could afford a FULL tank of gas.

Now halfway through my unemployment benefits, I was smart enough to come up with the idea of doing what I loved in order to earn money; writing.  I guess you could call it my version of getting the band back together.

There is a definite market for people who can write well... the problem is that the market is limited to upward hiring based on experience (public) and what materiel is available to be written about.

Though I have no problem writing articles and syndicates, I've found that the freelance market is not very consistent.  Translation: find more freelance jobs and a way to manage that income so that, come tax time, I don't run into the lovely "Jailhouse Rock" scene taking place after the car chase.

When people find out that I can write, it's amazing the kind of projects that can fall into my hands using word of mouth alone.  My net is filling with unwritten grants that people need written because, much like me, they need the money.

To start out, I took on some projects within my areas of interest; smaller ones like my daughter's garden club that (with any luck) will bring in several hundred to a few thousand dollars.  Casually speaking, I had a conversation with a friend who will likely need federal assistance for a non-profit organization to helps transition addicts through a detox programs, and back into leading positive lives society; an endeavor that will cost several hundred thousand dollars to start up.

This is opening prospective opportunities and, I am amazed to find that the best way to spread my reputation isn't so much in my own marketing as it is through word of mouth.

I've had some dead-end connections with publications specific to a discourse, but also some that were more open with professors working on second or third PhDs, in need of co-writers, editors, and research assistants for incomplete projects they hope to have prepared for publication within the next year.  And I "get it" on a very personal level.

"Stuck" happens.

"Losing wind" halfway through a book is where it tends to happen.

Working with other writers is clearly the window I've been waiting to find open in order to get started in prospectively working for myself.  More excitingly, this provides me with a way to get involved in a professional writing community.  It also has the power to open up to the wonderful critical voice of a coach that somehow turned into empty bleachers when my professional life got laid off.

I do my best writing when I'm working with other writers -both as a teacher and as a collaborator. My most consistent personal writing projects have been most monumental in content when I'm teaching, and my most proud inventions happen when I can discus them with others.

I'm hoping to make connections with professionals looking for co-writers to fund their research or writing endeavors through grants so that I can both earn an income while working with them, and learn how to do so on my own.

I may not be able to afford a full tank of gas yet, but I am getting refueled.  After all, life changes.  And I won't go down without one hell of a car-chase.

Need a Green Card; Prefer Platinum

As a guest resident in this land of unemployment, I've finally overcome the guilt and decided to accept my visitation visa.  The hook?  I couldn't buy my children food.

I'm a smart enough cookie; but I'm not the right fit for anything.   I may be a descendent of King Midas; only what I touch turns into disarray.

do my best to support my family (and myself) as we have battled since October with several family occurrences of cancer, death, long-term illness, multiple surgeries, etc.

I also seem to have a tendency to step in financial dog-poo again and again, I find that this month, in addition to dizzying monetary responsibilities when I have no money, yet still need to feed the kids, gas the car, pay bills & rent, etc, I need also to somehow pay for my daughter's tenth birthday, buy a Christmas tree, supply endless encouragement as my kids loose teeth by the mouthful, while maintaining a schedule to keep everyone happy.

Needless to say, the whole Christmas thing is going to be a bit more on the "Charlie Brown" side this year.  My kids are ok with the limited presents; they are shockingly perceptive.  I can't count the endless nights of sorrow and tears they bear as they relate to me how much they wish it was like it was when I taught and their lives were perfect.

The idea of living in a standard two-bedroom apartment right off the highway that smells like a bowling alley considered perfection was a comment I dared not inquire upon.  The kids ALWAYS know what's going on, even when they don't have words for it.  It's an unfortunate part of what few can fathom.

I have two funerals this week.

I have a job opportunity but can't afford to get the testing materials and pay to take the licensing test again.  I've been attending weekly meetings for nearly two months and still haven't been able to make the test (or the studying) happen because every time I blink, something else happens.

I applied for food stamps after being rejected for $50 worth of groceries.  I never thought that someone with nearly two graduate degrees would need to go on food stamps.

I was smart, I saved.

But my transmission died and replaced that safety net, leaving me with almost no money to my name.

A year ago I was looking into investing, upgrading my life insurance, and never blinked about all those things I took for granted until they come up: asthma medication, medical visits... These things no longer come easy; and I'm in dire need.

The ironic twist is that in retrospect, I'm stronger than I've been in a long time.

I KNOW I'm doing everything I can to keep my children happy.

They will remain in the same school district, and in the same home.  We do homework together, eat well-balanced meals every night, and are thankful for what God has given us, and read a story before we go to bed.

I know my optimism may only last for a euphoric evening, but losing a (yet another) former student reminds me of what I do have; my kids.  They are my world.

As a guest resident in  unemploymentville, I'm ready to upgrade.  Its time to get my feet wet and trade this green card in for a platinum membership to a great career that appreciates my skills, recognizes my passion, and lets me climb back to being who I truly am.

A Five(-ish) Day Plan to Losing Something Other Than My Job

When I initially went on unemployment, I'd sit at the computer all day, every waking day, including meals and a million games of Solitaire to help the time pass as I perused first the professional websites, followed by the "FINE I'LL CHANGE MY CAREER!" temper tantrums through Boston's Big Business classifieds that would take me far, far away.

Shortly after these and a million rejections from everything from Craigslist ads, job notifications, hiring agencies, etc. I'd land on the couch in tears, usually by about 3:00 p.m.

I felt like if I couldn't get a job, I should be looking for one.

I felt like if I wasn't looking, I was failing.

The fact was that I couldn't get a job.  I was looking.  And I was failing in spite of it.  But that wasn't the real failure.

The real failure was that I gave up on life.

Three o'clock meant it was time to start eating (instant gratification) and feel trapped by circumstance.  I felt so guilty leaving the house for any reason other than "job-hunting" with a paper arrow that I simply didn't GO anywhere.  I'd stay home.  I'd eat, staring at the computer, void of motivation.

No jumping to conclusions -I'm still working out the kinks on getting motivated

What I realized was that I used to make time for myself when I worked full time.

So I made myself go to the gym.  Instead of setting myself up to fail, I'd keep it simple, take it day by day.

Here is my Five-Day Plan.

• Day 1:  Torture myself by telling myself to get into some damn gym clothes until I gave up and ate cookies or chips for the rest of the day
• Day 2:      (lets just assume about a week or so of Day #1 was repeated for time's sake, and that this whole cycle hit the "reset" button more than once)
• Day "3":   Put on gym clothes and wear them in the house while I repeated Day #2 type-habits for a few days
• Day 4:     Get in the car and cry that I let it get to this point.  Drive to the damn gym and go inside to work out.
• Day 5:     Work out

See?  It only took five days (over the course of five months) to get there!  

And its official.

I've lost more than five pounds.  

Scorned Job-Seeker Seeks Identity

This morning, a news person stated that being unemployed isn't only bad for the economy, but bad for your health.  She may as well have said that a circle is round.

I chuckled at the statement, as would anyone who adamantly seeks employment yet finds none.  Though there is nothing funny about the state of our nation's economy, there is even less humor in the purely dissonant and vapid emotional lackluster of personhood felt after losing the status we so often use to define ourselves: doctor, teacher, plumber, lawyer, cashier...

Regardless of the title, losing the position we have worked our lives to achieve, is more than losing a title.

We lose our identity.

And then what?

I found that losing my job (-fortunately a lay-off situation) left me at the emotional equivalent of a scorned lover.  I'd worked my whole life to build the education, maintain the experience, and develop myself professionally.  Getting laid off left the passion I had for my life's work at a standstill.

In initial job-searches, I was picky about location, benefits, and the like.  I continued to search in my field, and elaborated on what skill sets I had that could be used in other areas.  I began to apply for jobs in related fields... distant related fields... reaches...

Eventually, finding a job that would feed my family out-ranked my desire to find a career that would value my accomplishments.  

I began to fill out the lengthy applications with scorn rather than hope.  Eventually I stopped pressing, "send" to certain position, to save myself from the embarrassment of rejection.

It was within a month of unsent applications within my field that I gave up on my career.

And I became null.

As a single parent with shared custody, I was limited in where I could go and the hours I could work.    So I did something I thought I'd never do.

I gave in.

Unemployment benefits have the stigma of being a motivation for the jobless to remain so.  Though I understand that concept in part, I must argue that sometimes, its both necessary and life-saving.

I wasn't getting any bites after dubious attempts at positions in any field I could physically and mentally do.  I was rejected every time.

• I'm overqualified.  

When I "dumbed down" my resumé, the interview would give me away.  I would answer basic questions without finesse.  I would stress to them that I would be a great... anything.  With some, I'd research the companies so they would know I was serious; others, I'd go cold to show I was trainable.

I'd get rejected and told that I'd stay a month and leave.  I'd stress my need to provide for my family.  Still, no bites.  I'd get rejected because I typed too fast.  I'd get rejected because I knew what they were talking about.

Then there was the other challenge.

I'm under-experienced.

For all the jobs I could do, I wasn't given a chance to prove myself in the field.  There were plenty of other __________ who had an internship out of college and were therefore more qualified to __________.

The reality was painful.  Not only did my field reject me, other fields weren't willing to meet me.  It was the dating scene all over again.  I'd gone

      Education = Dating Scene
      Career= Marriage

      Lay-off = Divorce
      Unemployment = Group Therapy
     
      Resumé = Too good for me
      Experience = Not my type

      Hiring Agency = Dating Service
      Interview= Blind Date (and we all know how those tend to go)

When I decided to stop being so hard on myself for not being able to get a job, the whole thing got a little less stressful.

I learned where to avoid the scams and dead ends.

Today, as I continue my search for income, I'm trying to take my time to a new level.  I made time for myself to go to the gym all those years I was employed and should stop feeling guilty doing something for myself that I more than deserve.  I made time to write every day throughout my career, so why did I stop when I became unemployed?

I started to write again.

I've always loved writing.  I've written for myself since I was fourteen years old.  I wouldn't consider it a "hobby" as much as a passion.

And so I'm going for it.  I've set myself up a website and invested about $50 toward marketing myself as a freelance writer.

Whether or not that leaves me with employment opportunities is yet to be seen.  I would LOVE to make a living as a writer.  But as it stands, the worst case scenario I can foresee, is that I'm spending time doing something I love, regardless.  I'm getting back to becoming me.

And by the way?

      Me = a really strong employment opportunity worth taking a chance on