You think it’s a door. But it’s not.
You think there are walls, frames, bells, knobs and rules, but there aren’t. All your life, you’ve been preparing to step through a portal that’s been prepared for you — only to discover that it never existed in the first place. Post-graduate living is not easy, quiet as it’s kept. You expect to embark on some fruitful and fulfilling adventure, mounting with the intensity of a Netflix binge, but that’s all false advertisement. Whether you’re travelling far or returning back to home, an intense and characteristically silent struggle may await you. And it can get pretty ugly. That unemployment sh*t sure ain’t cute. First (and arguably worst) is the application process. Whether you’re using LinkedIn or Glassdoor, WayUp or Indeed, the majority of application legwork is done online. It makes it extremely easy to start hamster-wheeling through upsetting cycles. Mine is sleep. In undergraduate, I always prided myself on being a self-starting, ambitious, and collaborative writer (@jobrecruiters). I loved being able to showcase my intellect and develop impressive projects. Being idle so often, and for such long periods of time, left me in a serious rut that grows deeper and wider with each passing day, when I let it. It’s terrifying how easy it is to let your days bleed into each other, consistently trying not to think and praying that the next time you open your e-mail, one of your fleet of applications will have returned with positive results. Compared to that? Them depression naps slap. It’s hard enough, trying to break that cycle. What makes it harder is thinking that you’re alone, and that’s the most I’ll write about that, because you’re not. Social media is a rapid-fire deception; a highlight reel of successes. Only in your room, in your bed, in your mind are you completely exposed to your truth. Mine is rejection letters. I’ve been collecting them sh*ts like stamps. Grad school apps, employment apps, writing magazine submissions, writing contest submissions; every ugly No I’ve received from the past year stays neatly tucked into a folder under my bed. Even out of sight, they can make me feel worthless. So varied, and never far between, they explain that I’m not good enough without ever explaining why. I decided to start framing them. A la Jessica James, I hang them on my wall (without looking at them too closely) and I keep writing anyway. Traditionally, we’re taught that opportunity is a door, or window, or whatever-the-f*ck sort of threshold, where transitioning is as simple as stepping from something old to something new. If you’re still reading this, it’s likely because you also realize that this is bullsh*t. Adulting is not a door, but the clear, snowy field you wake up in after being clubbed over the head. And you can walk in any direction you choose. You can even change directions, you can backtrack, you can even walk in circles. It can be so overwhelming, because this is a constant journey without a destination. Behind you is every footprint you’ve ever made. Before you is every mark you have left to make. It can get pretty ugly, but every day you choose to challenge that field gives you the chance to make it beautiful.
1 Comment
Akia
12/6/2018 02:01:12 pm
Hey Bird,
Reply
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWe all can get pretty sad. Archives
November 2019
Categories |