Anonymous asked: I recently quit my job without having anything lined up (stupid but it was mentally destroying me & I couldn't take it) and, although I have a good amount saved up where I could live for about 3 to 4 months completely unemployed, the guilt of using that money and the depression of not having a job is becoming particularly unbearable. Any advice or just general kind words from someone who has been where I am right meow?
There’s such a stigma attached to quitting a job for your reasons but I think if ANYONE can get out of ANY situation that is mentally destroying you, then the best thing you can do is run as far away as fucking possible. It sounds like you already took the biggest, most important leap for you to be able to move on, and that’s really fucking fantastic of you.
Being unemployed is a really fucked up, difficult thing to go through. It’s the first time I’ve ever been through a situation where I consider myself not living my life. Like nothing will be normal or ok or good until I find that fucking job, so why bother doing anything else at all because nothing matters when you don’t have a job.
Having that daily habit of going to work and earning a living totally vanish from you is really sad and lonely.
I’m not sure just how deep your depression has gotten, but now that I’m feeling a little better I can say that it took a bunch of really fucking teeny tiny steps to feel better - steps that normal people with jobs never even think about because it’s such a regular habit for them.
So for example, that period where I didn’t leave my house for five weeks ended with me saying ok you lazy ass, you need to get up and just go for a god damned walk. So I started walking around my neighborhood, pretty aimlessly, maybe a couple of times a week. Eventually that expanded to me saying ok, I have to leave my house every single day, even if it’s for ten minutes, just to get the fuck out. Like, this is a stupid, small, tiny thing, but it’s something to make me feel somewhat normal.
Then there was the showering thing…I think I’d go like a week at a time without showering (because this is the period where i was sleeping like 16 hours a day and being generally miserable). So then when I started getting out of my house a little more I was like ok, it’s time to act like a Normal Human and shower every day as if I’m going to work. It’s amazing what those normal every day habits due to your mentality when you just stop doing them.
I also started setting my alarm again to wake up in the morning instead of waking up mid-afternoon when most normal people’s days are already halfway over.
Then I realized I needed to stimulate my brain in some way, any fucking way, so I started reading the news again, reading books, reading whatever, sometimes just a few minutes a day, but daily, to make sure my brain wasn’t dissolving into nothing.
All of these things are so RIDICULOUSLY mundane and stupid, but it’s amazing how much they have helped me feel less shitty.
I think the hardest part was (and still is) trying to communicate with people. I mean, I avoided all social networks, stopped hanging out with friends, and essentially ex-communicated EVERY SINGLE PERSON from my life because I was so depressed and I just couldn’t deal with the thought of interacting with people when everything you have to say is terrible.
I think it’s really important that you talk to someone, anyone, about anything, and it doesn’t even have to be about this if you don’t want to talk about it. Just try to engage with someone on any level (this tumblr ask is a great step) because interacting with people is absolutely crucial, maybe even the most important part, in coping with depression.
You’re gonna come out of this on top. It might take awhile, but at some point you will find that awesome job and you will never look back and it will be glorious. Holler if you ever want to talk ok!!
This is just my own personal sob story that isn’t worth posting, however, I’ve been a really shitty friend over the past few months (ie being totally nonexistent) so all I can do is try to explain myself.
So, depression sucks. Trying to explain it to people who haven’t experienced it is a waste of time because they’ll never understand, and trying to explain it to people who have experienced it is a waste of time because they already know.
BUT - I think I might be able to describe what managing depression is like because I was (fairly) successful with that for a couple of years. If being depressed is like drowning in a tepid bath, managing depression is sort of like walking on a frozen lake. You’re out there, you’re alive, you’re surviving, but one stupid fucking crack in the ice and it’s over and you’re drowning and freezing to death at the same time.
A less dramatic way to look at it would be like experiencing a caffeine addiction. Prior to caffeine, you exist in a very specific way. You start drinking coffee and you get a nice buzz. Months later, you’re addicted and you’re no longer experiencing that buzz, but you continue to use it because it’s just helping you survive. If you decide to quit caffeine, you go through withdrawals, and you feel ten times more fucked than before you started consuming it. Once you have a falling out with your depression after you’ve been managing it, for some reason you feel even more depressed than before you had a handle on it.
So, at the end of November, I lost my job. I told most people that I quit but in reality I was laid off. To me, being laid off was the equivalent to being fired and I was so ashamed. I’m so used to being totally independent that it just seemed easier to gloss over it and make it seem like I had the upper hand. I just didn’t want my friends and family to be disappointed in me. It was really difficult to deal with, as I had been with this company for over five years and it was my first ~grown up~ job. I went from making $21/hr to $8/hr on unemployment.
To make things shittier, losing my job meant losing my insurance, and losing my insurance meant losing all access to mental health support. I had been on a cocktail of prozac and adderall for a couple of years. I had also been seeing a psychologist regularly, and the combination of drugs and therapy had made a hugely positive impact on my life. It all disappeared so quickly.
To make this a trifecta of a disaster, in December I found out that I was pregnant. I had started dating this dude in October, he got me pregnant, and turned out to be the most amazingly unbelievable asshole about the whole situation (I’ve got some examples of his atrocious texts on twitter). As this was happening, I was more concerned about how he was treating me than I was the procedure. After the abortion, everything got really fucking weird.
When I was 16, I decided that I didn’t want to have kids and I never really thought about it again. Even with serious boyfriends, the concept of children never entered the picture…..until I had an abortion.
I feel like this is some weird story for Catholic Charities or something, like I Had An Abortion And Now I Regret It. I certainly don’t want it to be that way, but I can say with certainty that right after the abortion, I realized that I actually really want to have children. At first I thought that it was just the aftershock of having an abortion, that many women feel this way and that the feeling would subside. The feeling never subsided. It just grew stronger. There is no doubt whatsoever that I want to have kids. The question I’ve asked myself ten billion trillion infinityillion times is this: if I knew then what I know now, would I have gone through with it? I’ll never know the answer but the question will inevitably plague me for lordt knows how long.
SO, at this point it’s mid-January. No job, no insurance, no medicine, no therapy, just had an abortion. We have now entered shutdown mode. When I say shutdown, I mean Shut The Fuck Down. Avoid Friends. Avoid Family. Avoid Texts. Avoid Social Networks. Avoid Life. Like honestly, why talk to people when every single thing I have to say is negative and there isn’t a single person on this planet I can relate to??
I think I went something like 5 weeks without leaving my apartment. I was sleeping upwards of 16 hours a day. I bought cat food online and I managed to live on the ten types of rice and quinoa I stocked up on when I actually had a job. Man, I can’t even tell you the last time I had a vegetable. December? I honestly have no idea how my body is still functioning?????
I started to return to normal in April, which, go figure, is when my unemployment ran out. I thought going from 21/hr to 8/hr was bad…but going from 8/hr to 0/hr is indescribably horrifying.
A few days ago I asked twitter for money. I felt pretty fucking awful about it cos it was something I swore I’d never have to do. I’ve been really fucking independent for my entire life so asking for help is one of the most humbling, humiliating, eye opening experiences I’ve ever been through.
When I did it, I figured that I’d get a really tepid response. I mean, I disappeared for four months, I was CLEARLY a terrible friend, and I just assumed folks had forgotten about me OR that it seemed really disingenuous for me to just show up on twitter out of the blue and be like HEY I NEED MONEY PLZ HELP.
When people actually responded, I was shocked. Like, how fucking selfless can you be? No matter what you give, that money isn’t falling off of trees. That shit is earned. You are working for some period of time, often times at a job you hate, and you’re just giving me money? Jesus christ.
In this moment, I feel overwhelmed with appreciation. There is no way that I will ever be able to properly thank you for helping me because you legitimately saved me. I would have been evicted if it weren’t for you and there is NOTHING I can do that will ever express how much that means to me. Oh god dammit, I’m tearing up just typing this shit because it’s just so…nice. You are so nice and I love you so much and I really hope that at some point soon, I’ll be able to thank you properly, ie with baked goods, cards, money, porn, etc.
So where does all of this leave me?
Full disclosure, I’ve received enough money from twitter to pay my rent for the month. There was some extra, and I used that to buy enough cat food so that my cats will be set in the event of an apocalypse.
I had three interviews this week, and I aced all of them. I have a fourth on Monday, so I’m really hopeful that by some point next week, I will have an offer, a job, and will finally begin to rebuild my life.
With that said, thank you for everything. I’m so sorry that I’ve been such a bad friend, but I fucking GUARANTEE that I will make this up to you.
Thank you for not abandoning me.
I love you.
my charmed life
In March of 2012, I was robbed at gunpoint.
I was at a club just across the river in Illinois. I had driven separately from my friends because I hadn’t planned on drinking and I knew I’d get tired and want to leave earlier than everyone else. The clubs in Illinois are depressing as hell cos they’re open 24 hours and consist of nothing but desperate folks trying to get laid. Plus, beers are like six bucks and lol at that mess. They get HUGE crowds though because that’s where everyone in St. Louis goes if they still want to ~party~ once all of the bars here close. Thinking back, this was a club I went to on my 21st birthday, and it was the first (but certainly not the last) time I had ever made out with some random man in the middle of the bar. Oh, sweet memories.
BUT I DIGRESS
The night that I was robbed, I had decided to leave earlier than the rest of my friends. I didn’t even think about asking anyone to walk me to my car because the parking lot is super crowded, really well lit, and there are loads of security guards wandering around. I open my car door, get about halfway in, and before I even realize what’s happening, this guy shoves me the rest of the way in my car, slams the barrel of a gun on my cheek and tells me to give him my purse. Before I could process what was happening, he just grabbed my purse and ran away. I immediately got out of my car and started screaming as loud as I could that I had just been robbed, hoping someone could chase the dude down. After that i just sort of crumbled to the ground where I remained sobbing hysterically for about 20 minutes.
The security guards who drive a truck managed to get wind of this in time to chase his vehicle off the property and get the license plate number. They couldn’t apprehend him though, cos once you’re off the club’s property, the security guards can’t do shit.
It turned out that about 30 seconds before he robbed me, he did the exact same thing to another woman. I wonder if he had been running to his car and I just happened to be conveniently in his way.
A police officer came, took my report and a few pictures of my bloody gross face (he shoved the gun in my cheek so hard that it actually made a bloody indentation of the gun barrel), and left. The security guards went into the club and found my friends, I cried into their shoulders for a few minutes, and then went home.
About an hour after this happened, my robber tried to use my ATM card at an ATM machine at one of my bank branches. I don’t think he’s very bright. The camera at the ATM got some lovely footage of his face. After that failure, he attempted to use my card at two different gas stations, but by then, I had already deactivated it.
A few days later, I received a call from a detective. Based on all of the information he received from the case, he figured out who the robber was. He came to my work, had me look at pictures of a bunch of dudes, and I made a positive ID on the robber. He got a warrant.
A week later, the dude was found passed out in a gas station bathroom in OKLAHOMA, high on oxycodone. I guess he was on the run. The detective from Illinois drove all the way down to Oklahoma, picked him up, and brought him back. He’s remained in jail there ever since. Since armed robbery is so absurdly common, I was told that it’d be likely that this thing would never go to court and he’d take a plea bargain.
Fast forward to now. The guy refuses to plead guilty even though the amount of evidence is absolutely overwhelming. A few days ago I received a subpoena to appear in court as a witness. This is real shit, like there’s gonna be a jury and a judge and the whole deal. I guess I should be thankful that I’ll be able to tell this story, but I’m mostly just sad that I have to see this dude’s face in a courtroom and relive that awful, shitty memory.