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.