It happened a year ago this month, and I've since been on unemployment (that lasted 6 months), and have been doing odd jobs since then. To say that I'm broke would be a major understatement. I've been diligently hunting for work for almost a year, and honestly, I'm not about to flip burgers for a living (I'm way too "over-qualified" for that), but I'm determined to pull myself up by my bootstraps and make this thing work.
At first, I did what most people instinctively do; I started looking for another job, but I knew in my heart that that wasn't what I wanted. I hate working for other people. I'm not particularly the most social person, and I can't stand stupid. My last manager was a horrible woman. I'm living proof that the universe hears every thought, and acts on it as though you asked for what you were thinking.
One weird day, I walked into the office, and I remember thinking, "Holy shit I hate this place. It's depressing, and I can't stand most of the people. I hate it here." About three weeks later I was unemployed. Problem solved.
I discovered that I have a talent for writing, so I decided that this is where I'm going to make my money for the next little while. In addition, lying in bed last night, I thought that keeping a running journal of this 'journey' would be kind of cool.
At the moment I don't even have my own place. I got evicted a month ago, and a close friend has been kind enough to let me stay on her couch, but I need to get the hell out of here. I've never NOT had money or my own place (or a car for that matter), so to say that this is just 'uncomfortable' is a horrible understatement. The emotional stuff that comes with being out of work is almost unbearable. There have been days when I've just started crying for no 'real' reason. For the most part, I try not to think about my situation. That's the only thing that helps me keep it together. But on the odd occasion, the damn breaks, and it all comes rushing to the surface.
I used to have it all; kids at home, big house, nice car, good job. Then one day, it feels like it was all just...gone. Though thinking back, it happened gradually, but I was too busy living life to notice. I can't blame anyone. I sort of just lived by the seat of my pants. As long as I was working, it was all good. Yes...there were times even then when I was frustrated as hell, but I wasn't sleeping on someone's couch.
They say that most people are just "one pay check away" from being homeless. I don't think most people really understand how horribly close to being homeless most of us really are. All it took for me was to lose my job, and "poof". With no savings to speak of, it only took about 9 months for my 'creativity' to run out. But that was with me actively searching for someone to hire me.
I'll also tell you at this point that I'm in my mid-40's, and I'm a woman (if that makes any difference).
Right now it's almost 9 am, and I'm sitting on my 'bed' (the couch) writing this. I've been researching what it takes to 'become a writer', and by that I mean, what avenues do I need to take to start making money with my writing. I'll document what I did in another post...
Thanks for reading :)
A.
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