To answer the question of most interest, I did find another job. As I’ve said to a lot of people, even in the first week of working, it felt like I’d been there for months. I gelled with the team quickly. It was an easy transition. And it was like the months of toiling in unemployment were a distant memory.
However… everything that follows is predicated on my privilege. If you trace it back, you can count many ways I’ve been dealt a privileged hand, starting with being born white and American, to getting my first job at the company where my dad worked. Yeah, I remember hearing that I was the most qualified for that job, but my dad’s long tenured status there surely helped me get my foot in the door, which then set me up for the following career path and connections made there. One of those connections led me to my former job, and even when giving me the boot, the company still treated me with great humanity. Generous severance, my full bonus, and six months paid COBRA for me and my spouse.
I’ve always been pretty good with money, largely rooted in anxiety. Before I moved out of my parent’s house, my mom advised me to save $5,000. I don’t know where I would be if I had not heeded the advice (mostly - I “only” saved $4,000). I wanted to make sure I had a cushion, and I remembered a line from Nickel and Dimed: “starting conditions determine everything.” My paycheck wasn’t much, but my rent was minimal (five roommates helps here) and I had enough to do all the little things I wanted to do. I barely cooked, I ate Trader Joes meals. My favorite restaurant was California Pizza Kitchen. I bought a lot of shit secondhand for fun and because I liked a bargain. My biggest splurge was used records at Amoeba for like, $40. It was fine. If I had a $500 car repair, I could handle it. I would complain and feel anxious until I built my funds back up, but I could handle it. I didn’t get a credit card until age 26. I was a Suze Orman disciple, and she advocates for an 8-month emergency fund in liquid. This is the attitude that I developed about money when I first had to care about money, and one I still carry.
So having set the stage - I know my experience isn’t the norm, if there even is a norm. I know there are people for whom layoffs spell catastrophe. I know that not everyone can build a savings account or emergency fund to weather things like this. But for me, even with the layoff… with severance, unemployment checks, healthcare coverage for 6 months, and a decent pile of money, not to mention other assets like access to a career coach, an impressive resume and good interview chops… I knew I would be ok financially. There are plenty of people you should feel sorry for under late capitalism, but I’m not one.
Nonetheless. Just because I wasn’t worried about money and knew my survival wasn’t at stake didn’t mean there weren’t incredibly painful moments. There were dark nights of the soul, tears, anxiety, rejection, and something approaching heartbreak on at least one occasion. There were also sunny days, moments of lightness and peace, lessons, revelations, great memories and experiences, and basking in the downtime. It’s hard to talk about the year as universally good or bad because in truth, it was so much of both. But the great thing is, I don’t need to tell a tidy narrative to speak truth. So let’s start with the part that most people understand readily, the job stuff.
Job Loss/Searching/Gain
I’d been laid off once before, and it was perfect. In the cosmic timing of my life, I’d just gotten engaged two days before, and although I had some immediate anxiety about finding a new job, I knew that I’d been underpaid for years and anywhere else I went would be better. When I easily found another job a couple months later, I was grateful for the $15,000 pay bump to help me afford a wedding. This time was not like that at all, though I did notice that they happened on nearly the same day, years apart.
This time around I felt a marked sense of isolation. People are always sympathetic and offer assistance, but it comes off less like a direct offer for help and more like saying “let me know what I can do” to put the burden back on you. When people had direct offers, such as making an introduction or actually looking at my resume, I noticed and appreciated that (regardless of what the outcome was). I didn’t need money, so I wasn’t about to ask for that. I wasn’t desperate and didn’t apply to every job I saw, but full stop - it takes a lot of time and effort to find a job. The daily rounds of Indeed, Ziprecruiter, Linkedin (I stopped with LinkedIn after it got too painful to see everyone else’s professional milestones and accomplishments). Constant emails, messages from recruiters that were mostly garbage, and a stunning array of false starts. Over the months, job hunting netted me a number of experiences ranging from good to WTF.
The good:
At the very beginning, I wrote a list of 20 places I wanted to work. I got interviews at four of them!
The best interview experience was with one of those places, a prestigious LA museum. I had applied on a lark for a Community Manager position, which I had no business applying to, but I got an interview anyway. I had a great conversation where I connected with the hiring manager. I didn’t move beyond the first round, but he wrote me a rejection email that was so sincere and pointed out my strengths, it was just that I didn’t have the appropriate CM experience (which was accurate). A rejection that still boosts your confidence is a rare thing.
I applied for a job just for fun. It was a remote position with the company I use for my budgeting software, and part of the application was creating a 1-minute video explaining how to use the software. I was pretty confident that I wasn’t going to get an interview so I took the approach of making something just for my amusement, and I laughed my ass off filming and editing the video just as a creative exercise.
The odd:
So many weird startups advertise on Indeed. “You’d be our first/only marketing hire” was something I heard a lot. My strategy is to see everything through, so I’d chirp some response like “Great, I would love to work at a startup!” even though it wasn’t true. In one of the weirder experiences, the interviewer appeared to be on coke, said I’d been unemployed too long, and complimented my foot tattoo at the end. He also had federal fraud charges.
Making you do work as part of your interview is a normal thing now - not for every job, but some. There was one where I had to design an email campaign and social media post. Another one, where I actually did get an offer (more on that in a minute) had me come in for three hours and do a presentation.
The owner of a creative agency asked me my zodiac sign. I like astrology, but it felt weird. Her energy also exhausted me. I was shocked when she moved me forward to come in and meet the team. I met them, but I guess I didn’t convey enough enthusiasm because they didn’t ever contact me again. It’s fine.
The painful:
Many times, I likened job hunting to dating - most of the time, after some initial interest, a date/interview is pleasant but not worth moving forward. Sometimes though, it goes well, you have a positive feeling about the potential… and then nothing. They ghost you. Or you find out they’re crazy. My most painful time getting ghosted was at an agency in Burbank. I had an incredible interview. They loved my answers, said I had great energy. I walked out of there feeling sure I would move forward. Two weeks later, I got a boilerplate rejection via email. I hadn’t put all my eggs in that basket or anything, but it was surprising and it stung more than other rejections.
The most hands down upsetting experience was having a job offer rescinded because I’d dared to ask if they had flexibility in the salary offer. I did a long in-person (the aforementioned three-hour presentation) and felt good about it. I hadn’t heard back after a couple of weeks, so I was steamed that they’d had me do all that work if I wasn’t a real candidate. However, they offered me the job eventually and I was in no position to decline. When I inquired about salary, they said there was no flexibility, so I asked if I could take the weekend to think about it. On Sunday morning I woke up to an email stating that they were ending negotiations because I obviously wouldn’t be happy with the salary. As much as I objectively knew that that was an unprofessional move, I was in such immense pain. I didn’t necessarily need to work there, and in fact, all my new skills learned in therapy were teaching me to pay attention to the reaction my body was having - tightness in my chest, a sick feeling - when I thought about taking this job. My body knew it was a bad idea. But I wanted my job search to be over. You have to understand the toll that long-term unemployment takes on you. It can have you questioning your worth and your value as a person (though a lot of my work this year centered around unmapping my personal value from external factors, especially ones based on capitalism - more on that later). The anxiety of uncertainty, the boredom of every day without a place to go, the financial stress. Yeah, I had the money. Don’t cry too hard for me. But - another lesson I learned in therapy - all pain is valid. All trauma counts. Our journeys are ours alone, and how yours stacks up to another’s journey is irrelevant. No matter how much money you have, if you are searching for a job for that long and aren’t getting offers, you feel defeated and rejected.
Anyway, that day was extremely hard, but when I shared with people what had happened, the phrase “dodged a bullet” came up. As much as it hurt, I knew that to be true as well.
The overall effects:
I no longer feel nervous about interviews or phone screens. I can connect with anyone. I’d rather be somewhere stable with benefits, but I can appreciate the “game” of job hunting. I was rusty and complacent before and now understand the value of staying ready. And I have faith in my background - the expertise I have earned through the variety of work projects I’ve had. I know it’s impressive.
What I did with my time
I kept a list going of everything I did with myself - all the binge watches, messageboard rabbit holes, and internet drama I stalked to occupy myself. And there was plenty of that - I lost days to devouring Bachelor Reddit content - but for the first time in a while, I was able to just… be.
I marked my days through the simplest of tasks - waking up, taking my dog’s bed and water dish out to the living room, putting on socks. Noon is when I take out the dog, feed him, and feed myself. Around 5:30, I take the dog out again and meet my husband outside. Obviously there were plenty of interviews, phone calls, and job applications. In between that, though - I had time.
I went to Grand Park the Friday of the UTLA teacher’s strike in January to support the teachers. I watched every Women’s World Cup game in bars with my bff, a teacher off for the summer. I hung out with people who were SAHMs, educators, or had untraditional schedules, to get lunch or walk at Lake Balboa. I went to 10 therapy sessions (more on this in a minute) and six iron infusions. I went to the eye doctor and got my first-ever pair of glasses. I went to dental and medical checkups. I took care of my dog/plants/car. I met my mom for happy hour and didn’t protest when she paid the entire check. I did so many dishes. I lit candles. I went to the grocery store on my own. I got a professional tarot reading from someone who told me I should be a social worker. I drove my friend to the airport on a random Monday because he knew I was around, and I was like “eh, why not.” I went to Santa Barbara a couple of times and Ventura when my friend was house-sitting at an apartment one block from the beach. I went to the high desert with my parents to see the historic poppy superbloom on a Tuesday. I took drives down PCH. I read a lot and wrote even more.
My husband and I continued our weekend adventures. If this was a normal year, I would spend this recap telling you about them. We got free admission to a number of really great food/drink events. We went to Vegas for my birthday, San Diego, and Boston. We went to Dodger games and Clipper games and amazing concerts (Bon Iver at the Forum, Vampire Weekend at the Bowl, Better Oblivion Community Center at the Wiltern). We ate at nice restaurants and took day trips and went to Just Like Heaven. I think some people believe that the unemployed deserve to suffer as some sort of karmic justice for not having to go to work. I didn’t suffer, at least not during the day. I would be consumed with anxiety at night, but I never suffered during the day.
An ex bf died unexpectedly - someone I’d dated for three years when we were fresh out of college. It had been over eight years since we’d talked, and I want to be very clear that I’m not centering my feelings over those of his family’s, more recent partners (especially the love who was with him at his end), and friends. In fact, so much of my sadness was wrapped up in seeing his friends/family, so many of whom I knew and liked, in so much pain. But another thing I learned was that it can all co-exist - there is room enough for all of our grief, and even though mine might look different it’s still valid. It’s still tough to discern what pain is my sadness over his loss and what is the pain of his best friend, who collapsed on my shoulder at the wake, or his mom, who had spent a lifetime sacrificing for him - but ultimately, I don’t need to, because it all counts. I went to the services, cried with people I hadn’t seen in years, found peace by connecting with another ex-gf of his who told me that they’d talk about “If you had a day to live and could talk with five people from your past, who would you pick” and my name always came up. I had time to sit in the tough, conflicting feelings, speak my thoughts out loud, journal. And I had skills/language to be comfortable with the discomfort, not judge my feelings, and not demand that healing happen on a certain timeline. In the past, I have not been great about processing things, especially when they were uncomfortable - I really made an effort to not do that this time.
Recalibrating my use of social media
I haven’t had the facebook app in years, but this year I took a big step back from posting on social media at all. I was tired of endless scrolling as a distraction and regularly deleted the IG app, and didn’t post much. Ultimately, posting anything on social media (for me) is purposefully done to solicit the dopamine hit of likes/validation and project an image about your life - if it wasn’t, you would just write in your diary or something. I don’t think social media is a bad thing - trust me, I had some of the best convos of my year in the IG DMs - but it’s definitely engineered to get us addicted and too much will make us sick. I hope to cut back more in 2020. It’s been easy to let weeks pass without logging in to Facebook, where the only content I see anymore is from brands and the handful of people who still post actively, but I had FOMO every time I deleted the Instagram app. Maybe I’ll get more comfortable with its absence in 2020.
Therapy
Ten free sessions through my old job’s EAP. This wasn’t my first time going to therapy, but it was the most impactful. I’d picked this person because she practiced close to me, not knowing that she specialized in “somatic experience” therapy. You can wiki a good definition for it, but I’ll define somatic therapy as getting you out of your head and into your body, paying attention to bodily sensations and where your energy is stored when you recall something painful, so the body can heal itself of trauma. I used to think I had no trauma, because I was never neglected/abused, had a good childhood, have a lot of privilege, etc. However, like all of us, I have existed in the world and had painful experiences and memories, which (I learned) are stored in the body. I have suffered from a lifelong tendency to be “in my head,” telling a story about things and trying (and failing) to think my way out of difficult feelings. Somatic therapy taught me the value of being in my body and experiencing bodily sensations - a sick feeling when thinking about a painful memory, for example - non-judgmentally *without* going down the mental rabbit hole. Our bodies are so much more accessible than our minds, and I feel lighter and mentally capable with all the tools I have to listen to mine.
If you want to read more about healing trauma and existing in the world more functionally, I recommend these books:
Bessel van der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma
Peter A. Levine, Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma
Mark Wolynn, It Didn’t Start with You:How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and How to End the Cycle (this book changed my life radically. Did you know that on a DNA level, when your grandma was pregnant with your mom, everything happening to your grandma was also happening to you?)
Don Miguel Ruiz, The Four Agreements (not about trauma but had a lot of great lessons)
Astrology
YMMV, but astrology has been a more helpful tool for understanding, owning, and attempting to change my negative traits than any religion and most therapy ever has. It’s so much deeper than reading about how your day is going to go - it’s been a tool for looking at who I am, what my natural inclinations are, what the challenges are/will be. And if something doesn’t feel accurate, I have the reframing capabilities to think “Is this offset by other aspects in my chart? Do I have a blind spot?” And as Chani Nicholas says, take what works for you, leave the rest.
Getting Free program
Do you ever think about a thing in your life and realize that you can pinpoint the moment that led to that course of events? In September 2018, my friend and I went to a daylong feminist event called Mothership. There were different workshops and speakers, and one was this woman whose talk was ostensibly about toxic relationships but veered into trauma, colonialism, racism, personal style, parenting, social media, and all sorts of issues. I followed her on IG and came to learn that she ran a women’s group called Getting Free every year. Literally the last day to sign up, I did. Even with the unemployment, I trusted that investing in myself would pay off in ways I couldn’t fully understand. The group provided a nice complement to therapy and work I was doing on my own, and prompted introspection. It’s rare that we get a long-term chance to really take a look at ourselves, ask big questions, and see how it all connects. As a side benefit, I’ve gotten to hang out with really cool women at an end-of-summer pool party and during a winter solstice DTLA loft hangout.
Lessons I’ve internalized
Noticing/Awareness/Naming. When a feeling pops up, notice it and speak it (verbally or in your head) “Wow, I’m feeling XXXXX as a result of XXXXX. I wonder what that’s about.” And approaching it non-judgmentally with curiosity, not interrogation - more like “huh, that’s interesting.” You don’t have to find the root cause of every emotion you feel, but you do have to be self-aware enough to notice patterns.
Reframing things. I think this part can be perceived as letting yourself off the hook or making excuses, like ignoring all your responsibilities and calling it “self care.” But reframing is critical for stretching your ability to see things from outside your limited little perspective. For example, if I had spent my whole unemployment thinking “I am such a loser for not having a job,” that would not have been useful. How does me beating myself up serve anyone or help me get a job? It doesn’t. Reframing to think “I am where I’m supposed to be and something will happen at the right moment” was crucial in maintaining a modicum of self-esteem and mentally zooming out to focus on the larger story of my life.
Getting away from filtering my perception of myself through external sources. I have felt so much freer walking down the street knowing it doesn’t matter what another person thinks of me. I know what *I* think of me. And by the way, this will probably be a lifelong effort for me. It’s fine. Some things come naturally to me, but being carefree about what others think of me traditionally hasn’t been one of them. Nonetheless, I stopped to ask “What are my ideas about myself, and where did they come from?” Sometimes there’s a clear answer that you don’t even realize until you speak it out loud, like how I spent a lifetime thinking I wasn’t creative because I got a bad grade on an art project in elementary school. Luckily, I know better now (and don’t judge myself for not knowing better before!)
“It can all be true.” This is among the most useful sentences I’ve ever heard. Years ago in a sales course, I learned the value of replacing “but” with “and” - meaning that multiple, sometimes conflicting, things can be true. I want a job, AND I’m enjoying the downtime. I had a bad breakup with an ex AND was upset about his death. I can feel one way without negating your experience, and vice versa.
Embracing changes and shifts. This is probably the most surprising development, as I used to half-joke about fearing change. But really, change is a good thing. It’s happening regardless of how much you cling to the past, so you might as well learn to roll with it, adapt, and do the painful work of growing. I know the importance of a growth mindset and being up for challenges. I would never have asked to be laid off, but I knew that it was an opportunity to learn lessons about life, work, and myself.
Conclusion
The exact story of how my unemployment ended will need to be saved for in-person over drinks. What I’m comfortable sharing in this forum is that I had a good opportunity, which turned into a big win. I had the enviable problem of having to (getting to) make a choice, and the choice I turned down was a Fortune 100 company. Like dating, the place I ended up felt unquestionably “right.” I began the year in pajama pants at home, and ended in my own office in a skyscraper. I have an amazing team (as I have everywhere I’ve worked) and am becoming a better writer, collaborator, communicator. Every Friday, there’s a farmer’s market where I buy pupusas to eat in the park, and when I walk to the subway to go home I see families and groups of foreign teens taking selfies in front of the buildings on Grand Avenue, about to explore the night.
Does that mean anything? Yes and no. So much of what I tried to do this year was disentangle my sense of worth from my job, marital status, money, friends, events, or lack thereof. I have inherent worth regardless of any of those things. I have (or can work towards) internal peace regardless of circumstance. And while we can celebrate our victories, ultimately, the job we do to pay the bills is such a small piece of the person we’re becoming. It’s easy for me to be happy now that I’m sitting pretty, lessons learned, bag secured. It’s more challenging to think about what my attitude would be if we reached this point in the year and I didn’t have a great job. But I have to trust that something else would have worked out, since it always does. And apart from the obvious benefits to changing jobs, I don’t know if I could have received the lessons of this year without going through a seriously tough moment in life.
It would also be easy for me to just look at where I am on December 31, 2019, compared to where I was on January 1, 2019, and convey the message that my life has upgraded, and leave it at that. But I truly feel that it would be a disservice to tell that narrative when I engaged in so much labor to transform my life on emotional and spiritual levels. The unemployment and job hunting stuff is only the B-plot of this year. Getting a job is a piece of cake compared to grappling with generational trauma. The real narrative arc is about how I thrived. Healed. Learned. And will continue to do so.
We’re never done. We get to continue to try. We can’t cross off “get perfect career” “have perfect marriage” “conquer fear of dying” or anything off a list and be done with it, but we can continue to make incremental improvements. It’s the work and burden and joy and privilege of being alive. I’m not celebrating 2019 as a victory lap, but a time when I embraced change and let people see who I really was.
