I’m not sure this will ever be published. Or, maybe published, but not “shared”. This is mostly because I’m concerned this post will read as… pitiful. And despite anything else, I am not looking for pity. I never have and don’t particularly like the idea of people feeling sorry for me.
Whether I was looking for it or not, it appears I may have come to a crossroads in my life. Certainly not the first and possibly not the last. I’m not sure how to proceed and I’m not sure how to reconcile my feelings of grief and anger with anything that comes next.
Last week I lost my dream job. One that checked every career box I’d listed for myself. It’s been given to someone else. But, before I get into the details of that gargantuan disappointment, I need to go back. Way back.
More Than Teen Angst
As regular readers of my blog and those who know me well, it isn’t news that I’ve struggled with varying degrees of depression for most of my life. I still struggle with it, on occasion.
When I was younger, I didn’t know… well, anything. Though I had a vague idea what depression was, it wouldn’t occur to me until years later that I myself might be afflicted. As a teen, all I knew was that I was unhappy and didn’t like myself very much. Even to this day, after years of therapy, I still sometimes struggle to understand the affection I instill in some around me. But I digress.
As a teen, what I wanted more than anything was to be in love. And to be loved. I believed, however naively, that a loving relationship was all I need to fix whatever it was in me that was broken. From middle school through college, I harbored crushes from afar. Rarely, if ever, doing anything about it. After all, what would those girls possibly see in me? That self-loathing coupled with the terrorizing dread of rejection were the reasons, probably more than any other, that desire for a loving relationship remains unfulfilled.
In all my years, I can’t really say I’ve ever been in a real, serious relationship. Perhaps one, but it was short-lived and was absent any physical intimacy.
Self-Realization and Contentment
I came to Hawaii to get away from a life that was strangling me. And to seek therapy in the hopes of understanding and fixing whatever it was in me that was broken.
Years of therapy taught me to accept myself. The good and the bad (broken). I made huge strides. Even in the midst of this crossroads, I’m better now than I was when I first arrived on Oahu’s shores.
Despite the best efforts of my therapist, however, I was never able to reconcile my fear of rejection and intimacy. Ultimately, I decided it didn’t matter. Life is a strange and winding road. Not everyone is meant for love. I accepted my future was one of bachelorhood.
What I did have was the hope of a career that I not only loved but one which allowed me to improve the world. Though I stumbled backward into politics, I knew it was how I wanted to spend my life. So, I traded the idea of a wife and a family for a career I enjoyed. That I was passionate about.
It’s been a hard row to hoe, but as long as I was moving forward, I didn’t mind that the path was rocky.
And, believe me, it’s been rocky.
I was a Policy Analyst in the Governor’s Office when I felt my career hitting a wall. I was little more than a paper pusher with no responsibility, no influence, and on a lot of days, no real actual work to do.
Even though the pay was pretty good, I chose to leave for a risky endeavor that has left me rudderless and job-hopping ever since. But I did my best to remain optimistic, believing that eventually, the rocky road would lead me someplace where I could settle and be happy.
Sisyphus
Finally, after five years of job-hopping and unemployment checks, I thought I found my place. The job I hoped would stay in until I retired.
After initial conversations and an interview, I was confident. Or cautiously optimistic that I’d come to the end of my road.
Then the process stalled. Weeks turned to months before I was finally told that for “diversity reasons” they were essentially starting over the hiring process. “But don’t worry, you’re still in the running.” With hopes dashed, I tried to remain optimistic about my chances. That was foolish.
After years of applying for jobs only to be passed over for “better applicants,” perhaps I should have known better. But I really wanted this job and really wanted to stop being poor.
Two weeks ago I was once again told, “Thanks but no thanks.” “You’re a great applicant, but we have decided not to move forward with your candidacy.” The story of my life in recent years. I’m good, just not good enough.
This feels like the last straw.
In the past, I’ve picked myself up, brushed myself off, and forged ahead. Hopeful “my job” was just over the next hill. But I’m tired of trying. I’m tired of pushing the boulder up the mountain over and over.
There’s No Next
I’m a breath away from being 45. In a matter of weeks, I’ll be unemployed. Again. I went all-in for a career that now seems fated for someone other than me.
I have no family of my own. No money. And now, no career.
Though the initial anger and disappointment over this loss have faded, it’s been replaced with nothing more than numbness. This crossroads seems to lead to nowhere. I can’t see any good option. I’m left with nothing now, but subsisting.
Whether I stay in Hawaii or tuck my tail and return to the place of my youth, I am utterly defeated.