what keeps you going
A lot of people have called me brave for quitting my job at the end of July. I think I’m actually a huge dumbass.
Sure, there’s a lot of bravery in realizing one day that all the things you thought would matter to you don’t actually matter and there’s a lot of bravery in waking up and realizing you’re deeply miserable where you’re at and you need to change things.
But, I think of this more as a privilege. I had privilege where I could say, okay this job and life aren’t working out for me, let me leave and take some time to figure things out. I’m immensely lucky to have the support that I do, parents who trusted that I was making a decision that would beneficial for me in the long run and who traveled four hours down to a city they’ve only been a few times to help me move out of the first apartment I’ve ever rented in America. I was lucky to have a job that understood it was a natural time for me to leave and supported me in my transition out despite me not having a clear path or idea of what’s next.
I still feel like a dumbass though.
And I know I shouldn’t. I know that if I actively think about it, my decision-making has been measured, thoughtful, and purposeful. But every step of the way, I couldn’t help but feel like I’ve made the worst decision possible, that I fucked up in every conceivable way, that I imploded any sense of a career I’ve ever had. I haven’t talked much about being unemployed, except for a slew of self-deprecating jokes on twitter, which in its own way is probably the way I cope with feeling like I have no sense of direction or purpose. I feel embarrassed a lot of the time, ashamed that I’ve spent so much time at home as opposed to out in the world where everyone else seems to be. I feel so behind on any of life’s goals or any other measurements of success. I feel as though I’ve accomplished so much, but I have nothing to show for it.
I had a lot in Philadelphia. I had a great apartment with a wonderful roommate, beautiful views of the city, and an in-unit washer/dryer. The city was accessible; I could walk right out the door and be in the middle of everything I wanted. I had great friends whom I’d see fairly regularly. Even my job wasn’t all that bad. I was part of a project that really had the potential to help people. I had income for the first time in a long time. But every day, I just felt this deep sadness. That something was wrong. That I didn’t fit in. That as hard as I could push myself to make this city work, it didn’t want me. Every interaction was like pushing against a current that I did not understand.
It took me a while to realize what I was feeling. I thought since I had such a great experience abroad, making friends so easily and living with relative ease in a city, that every other experience would be the same. But, it wasn’t. I denied this feeling for so long, hoping that if I just give living there another chance, if I joined a club, if I spent more time with people other than who I met in graduate school, maybe my feelings would change.
I had such a hard time making friends and finding people who shared my interests in Philadelphia that after a while I just learned to do things by myself. If I wanted to go to the comedy club and see a show, I’d just book my own tickets and go. Same with going to the movies. If I wanted to see an exhibit, I wouldn’t wait around to make plans with someone. I thought that maybe I could meet people at these events, but have you ever tried to make friends with a stranger? It’s awkward. I’m terrible at it. I don’t think I ever learned to make friends that weren’t classmates of mine or coworkers or from the internet. I’m still not sure how to do it. Despite how much I enjoyed my solitude and going to these events, it just compounded a sense of loneliness and sadness I had. I felt so far away from people who understood me and people that I felt comfortable around. I missed my family most of all.
In February and March, the horoscopes I read started to align. I kept getting cryptic messages about an immense change that would come in my life. Uranus was entering Taurus, it said. The foundations of your life are going to come undone, it read. Everything you know will change, but it’ll be for the best, it described. Cosmically, the universe felt on my side. I read so many of these messages that I internalized them.
Whatever you believe about astrology, I don’t care. But the comfort and, more importantly, sense of direction those messages gave me triggered a switch in me. I was going to leave. I was going to stop being miserable. I was going to take myself out of the circumstances I was in, uproot everything I knew about the world, and I was going to be happy, dammit.
Once my therapist gave me the task of listing attributes I love about myself. I took a long time to complete the assignment. I couldn’t come up with a list. I was in a much darker place back then and have since gotten better, but perseverance was one of the first words I came up with. Through everything, I keep going. I don’t know if this is an inherited trait, my parents have toughed through so much in their lives to get my brothers and me where we’re at, but maybe it’s more than that. To grow up queer in a heteronormative world requires a lot of perseverance. To even want to keep going, you need hope that your circumstances will change, that you’ll find happiness, that whatever you’re feeling in the moment is temporary and a life filled with love and kindness awaits you on the other side.
Job hunting has been the most miserable process I have ever experienced. I swing and I miss. I miss hard. I miss so hard I think I strain muscles in my back. Nothing has made me feel more stupid. I sometimes feel like such a failure during phone interviews that I have to stop myself from just hanging up and pretending like the interview never even happened. But, what I found is, the more I try, the more I put myself out there, the more I swing, the closer I am to a hit. You ever feel yourself actively getting better at something? It’s a great feeling. Rejection sucks, sure, it could make you so unmotivated, defeated, gutted, but it’s not the end of the world. Every rejection, as cliche as it sounds, becomes a learning experience.
I’m going to feel stupid for a long time, until one day I don’t. I’ll feel like a failure, until one day I don’t. I’ll feel so aimless, until one day I see the road clearly ahead of me. So, for now, I’ll keep going. It’s all I have.