Crickets.
That’s the sound of unemployment.
In late August, I lost my job.
Since then, I’ve applied to ~65 jobs (I’m trying not to keep track), gotten a dozen or so rejections, but mostly, it’s silence (the bad kind).
I’ve pitched my blog to a dozen brands in hopes of earning some income that way (a dream I’ve held onto quietly for years), and it’s more silence.
I’ve put in loads of work on my Etsy Shop, hoping to ramp up sales for the holidays, but it’s been slow.
Unfortunately, I’m no stranger to losing a job.
In fact, this is the fifth time I’ve lost my job since 2014. That means every time I get a job, I meet new people, start cleaning up the financial mess from the previous unemployment, and then lose my job again.
It is becoming a major plot line in my life, and, although there are worse story arcs a character can endure, this one is cruel enough.
Minutes after losing said job, I was okay. I’ve been through this before, I thought. I’ve survived this many times; what’s one more time?
But hours later, the reality set in. The job market. The number of unemployed folks searching for jobs. The economy. My savings account. My rent. Health insurance. I couldn’t get out of bed.
Of everything that scares me about unemployment, I fear the crickets most.
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