Unemployed/Underemployed (#Sucks)

We’re in a recession. And don’t tell me otherwise.

Maybe it’s not the traditional recession in economic terms. But many of us are unemployed, broke and tired. I was laid off back in May from my copywriting tech role. I spent the summer applying to jobs, updating my resume and website, sitting on Zoom interviews and perfecting writing assignments recruiters emailed over to test my skills. I sent over 300 resumes this summer and had a handful of interviews just to be rejected (or worse, ghosted). I joke to my therapist that I am the Queen of the Fourth Round- I get to the fourth round of interviews but no offers. It’s tough out there. And not just for me. One of my friends was a creative director at a FAANG company for 5+ years and was laid off around the same time I was. Despite her experience and her educational pedigree, she only has had three interviews this summer, as well as countless rejections.

The US unemployment rate currently sits at 3.8% (approximately 6.4 million Americans) but I believe the percentage is much higher. There isn’t a measure for underemployment, a step many people are taking in order to survive. I’m working in the service industry now, making half of what I made in my tech role and without health insurance. I’ve always fallen back on waitressing and bartending during hard times as I hunted for something I’m more aligned with employment-wise. While I know that service will always be needed (at least for now), I still don’t get enough hours to fully fuel my desires (like buying a car- but who the fuck knows when that will happen with the auto industry’s rising costs and inflation).

Plenty of folk are still exclaiming, no one wants to work. Bullshit. No one wants to hire. The job market is demoralizing. There are people out there who want to work, are desperate to work. Many are simply just looking for a job. Savings are running out. They can’t put food on the table nor pay their power bill. Others are looking for a second, possibly a third, to help supplement their low income. What I am hearing from my friends, coworkers, strangers off the internet, all genders and ages, across every industry is the basic lack of respect from employers.

The entire process of just applying for jobs is a mess. Expectations from employers are unreasonable. Employers are looking for the perfect candidate that needs to check every skill box. Employers don’t want to provide any training opportunities it seems anymore. Entry-level jobs are now requiring at least two years of experience. My heart goes out to the recent college grads looking for their first post-college job. Internships are not enough anymore. Some job postings on Indeed and LinkedIn require a master’s degree with pay of only $45,000 for full-time work. Oh, have I mentioned ghost postings? Or the countless logins I have to create only to be rejected?

Even when you get the job, things seem bleak. The federal minimum wage hasn’t gone up in years. Wages, in general, haven’t either (and I’ll never stop talking about how women make up about 46% of the workforce and still only get paid about 85% of what men are paid). The cost of living skyrocketed and no one can work for $17/hr and pay bills anymore. Employers want to hire someone for the minimum. Companies are running on skeleton crews to complete work. Many remote jobs are now being outsourced. Some employees fear for their basic safety.

Jobs aren’t providing the benefits people need to maintain healthy lives. The option to work from home was a godsend to many during the pandemic but that right is getting stripped away. Benefits like healthcare and PTO are on the chopping block. There is no job security. Even my friends who are highly educated in lucrative roles are concerned- my friend is a veterinarian in Austin and has told me that he’s concerned about his job, as more people can’t afford vet care for their pets and choose to forgo his services (he has also told me about the terrible health insurance he has especially after receiving some critical bites; as well as the uptick in rude clients and poor upper management).

I fucking hope so.

Many workers are taking a stand and speaking up for their rights. After the throws of the pandemic, workers are hanging on to work-life balance expectations and increased demand for higher wages and better working conditions. The Great Gloom no more. Unions are forming every day. Multiple strikes have already happened (SAG-AFTRA, the almost strike with UPS and a possible one this month with the United Auto Workers). Workers have reevaluated their priorities, leading them to seek out more fulfilling and flexible work opportunities- all which they deserve.

All summer, I’ve been asking myself if I should switch careers. Maybe go back to school (I’ve been exploring various options from nursing to funeral directing). As much as I love writing and my journalism background, I feel like today’s job market has little need for creatives like me (don’t get me started on ChatGPT and AI). Applying for jobs has wiped away a good portion of my energy and has made feel like a shell of a human. I keep reading how the job market will surge this month but I’m not holding my breath. It’s difficult to remain optimistic about finding anything when you’re struggling paying bills. My biggest fantasy right now is to simply have a savings account.

If you are in a similar boat as I am, dear reader, let me tell you this: it sucks. It hurts. But keep going. Stay persistent for what you deserve. If you are fortunate to have a job in any capacity, remember that you are not your job. If you want to, you can let it define you but it’s okay just to work to make money to live. You deserve to be treated with respect and decency, especially your workplace.

#LessonsFromMyCat

My mental health has been shit this summer. I’ll admit that my self-care practices aren’t great- I’ll sleep away bad days and crappy feelings. I hermit and push people away. I disappear, physically and mentally. But it’s hard to hide from your pet.

Canela Jospehine Tyrell is my fur child. She is named after a deer (a “savage thiccum”) and her personality matches her namesake. She’s vocal about receiving her breakfast and dinner at the exact time each day and loves to go outside to munch on grass. Canela attacks my feet in the middle of the night but knows when I’m sad and in need of comfort. Her sassiness and sweetness (key Calico traits) provide me with desperately needed moments of laughter and warmth when dealing with my depression lows.

Canela was a birthday present from my friend four years ago. I missed having a furry friend after my cat, Hova, passed away from kidney failure. Elli drove me to the local shelter where I played with a handful of cats before I came upon Canela in her cage. She was aloof as I reached in to pet her and cautiously sniffed my hand, terrified that another stranger wanted to touch her. I thought she was beautiful and asked the shelter attendant if I could spend one-on-one time with her. I sat on the floor of the visitors’ room, leaning my back against the wall. Canela stood in the opposite corner, sizing me up as I talked to her. I told her that I was her friend and tried to coax her over to me. After a few minutes of sweet talk, she walked over and sat next me. She looked up with her big, yellow eyes as if she said, “You’re okay. I like you.”

I learned from the shelter that Canela was returned by the first family that adopted her. She was labeled, “aggressive,” but I believe that she was abused. To this day, Canela doesn’t like most men. She tolerates my roommate, Pete, but she has never warmed up to any of my male friends in the way she approaches my female ones. Trauma in animals, just as in humans, can have a lasting impact on their behavior and social interactions.

Canela took a while to adjust to her new life after I brought her home. For the first month, she only slept under my bed. She wasn’t interested in cuddles or toys. She’d bite everytime I tried to touch her. I didn’t know what to do. I was hurt and concerned. The advice I was given simply stated to leave her alone and let her come to me when she was ready. So, I did. I made sure she had a safe space to grow to love and respected her boundaries.

It was a Tuesday morning when I woke up and found Canela sleeping on the edge of my bed. I shrieked with delight, causing her to wake up and run to the closet to hide. As the days progressed, she became more comfortable sleeping out in the open. That led to her becoming more accepting of snuggles and attention. Now, Canela is a clingy purr machine who follows me around the apartment (she especially loves our bathroom visits together). She lets me bury my face in her soft fur when I cry and loves scratches behind her ears.

When I think about my journey of growth, I often compare it to Canela’s. There are times when I’m incredibly frustrated with myself about my lack of mental progress. But then, I look at Canela and am reminded that progress happens in gradual, incremental steps. She has shown me how to embrace small wins and how to stay consistent with routine. Growth can happen. It just takes time. I need to be patient with myself, just as I am with my cat child. Every day, she reminds me to stay curious and adaptable to new challenges. Moreover, in her own charming way, she’s highlighted the value of having a support system, much like how Canela relied on my love and guidance. You can’t evolve alone- surrounding oneself with a supportive network can make a significant difference.

My relationship with Canela goes beyond companionship and love; it’s a source of wisdom and inspiration. She has become my source of structure and motivation (I say that I work hard to give my cat a good life). Watching her overcome fears and obstacles has inspired me to face my own problems with a similar spirit. Canela’s presence in my life is a beautiful reminder of the healing power of the human and animal bond. I wonder if she knows how much she takes care of me as much as I take care of her.

And remember, dear reader: adopt, not shop. According to The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA), about 3.4 million cats enter animal shelters nationwide every year. 1.4 million of these cats are euthanized. If you have room in your heart and your home, please consider adopting a new family member/emotional support animal/best friend today.

#Mother!

“Why do you want to be a mother?” my therapist asked.

I sat in my seat, thinking about it. I didn’t have an immediate answer why. I thought about my maternal instincts. I do mother the people I love, as much as I can without crossing boundaries. I like doing it. I’m good at it. So, I should get more cats then? And although I respect pregnancy and those who can get pregnant, pregnancy was never an option for me. I never could imagine myself giving birth, vaginally nor via C-section. After cancer, I don’t know if I could even get pregnant. Plus, I’m at the age of geriatric pregnancy. I hate that term. It scares me.

The answer did eventually float from the back of my head. At least, it was the answer that made the most sense to me. I didn’t grow up with that so-called perfect nuclear family that I desperately wanted growing up so I’m trying to create one of my own. Maybe if I couldn’t find a husband (even after all of the dating I’ve done in my 20s and 30s), I could recreate that family in my head somehow in real life with a kid.

I thought of the inverse question: why wouldn’t I want to be a mother? Other than feeling like I’ll never get my shit together, I do know that I can be pretty selfish. I enjoy my freedom. I think what it would be like to raise a child alone. I know the benefits of a two-parent household. But I’m not holding my breath anymore at finding the one person. I think about my career history and the fact that there is still a lot that I want to accomplish professionally. And travel. I want to get out of the US for a while.

At the end of the day, I still smile at babies and remember that I’m Auntie Andrea to so many of my friends’ children. I would like to spend my 40s fostering kids. Been trying to set the steps in motion for that dream. I do genuinely love children and would like to give one a good home one day even if it’s just temporary. I really want to make that happen.

I’ve wondered what my life would seriously look like without children, though. I wonder if my bank account would be bigger; if there would be more stamps on my passport. Would I be happy and satisfied with my life, especially at an elderly age? These thoughts send waves of panic through my head. These are times when I wish that magic wands or time travel were real. I can’t explain why I want to be a mother. I just have that feeling. I know that whatever feelings I have about motherhood are valid yet worth exploring.