Faith / Collapsing Tunnels / Send Help

I have been on Unemployment benefits from my state since my layoff just before the summer. I got on food stamps because I needed to be able to feed my son and unemployment is not enough. I have a spreadsheet tracker with all the jobs I have applied for since March and every time I add to it, my spirit breaks just a bit more. I add to it every day – unemployment requires me to search for three jobs per week in order to access my unemployment check weekly. I apply for about 7-10 jobs every week.

The LinkedIn posts of advice either say to do it this way or to focus on 1 or 2 per week or to rest because you’ve been working for so long. But your bills and your responsibilities are not at rest. The gurus also say use AI to maximize your application and cover letter, but also…don’t use AI. The employers may reject you if you use AI or if you don’t. It’s so confusing really. Resume builders pop up across all your social media, encouraging you to take on their services at a cost but your bank account is groaning and emptying at a rapid rate.

With the government shutdown and the SNAP benefits curtailed, I am not sure where my groceries will come from this month. I suppose it’s a good time to try that One Meal A Day (OMAD) diet and finally lose my COVID weight that lingered on, powered by my cortisol-driven stress job. I certify my unemployment weekly every Sunday and today I encountered an error message. I suppose this is brought to us by the government shutdown somehow. I cannot certify that I looked for work this last week and it’s just another stab to an already weary heart.

I don’t quite see the end of this dark tunnel especially as I navigate bills being due, needing to feed my son, managing my stress levels, and keeping on breathing. My pastor’s sermon today was about the long game, leaning on the church and living by faith. It’s hard to keep the faith when the lights are failing all around and your tunnel is collapsing all around you.

Aunt Joyce.

I don’t know how to mourn you

because the you that left us

is certainly not the you that I grew up with.

The you that I recall

was the one who held space for me in her home,

always had kind words to direct my way,

and an ear for my voice when I was stepping

in unsureness and uncertainty becoming an adult.

The you that I recall

had Christmas presents for me under the tree

something I never had at my home,

held my son so lovingly and played with him,

after being the first to ever feed him solids.

The you that I recall

would ask to see my report card, checking for

that Physics score that my high school teacher

constantly gave me ‘F’s in and I never knew what

to tell you but you never made me feel less than.

The you that I recall

loved me soundlessly, consistently and quietly…

and you laughed and loved my son in the same way.

I don’t know how to mourn you

or perhaps it’s just that I don’t know

how to say goodbye.

Blind Sun

Suddenly it was clear as day,

the sun of you that you block from me

is fueled by whatever self-built barriers you hold for yourself.

Nothing to do with me and here I thought that it was my fault

that you are unable to see me the way I wish you’d see me.

I shivered in those freezing shadows that you cast upon me,

thirsting for your sun to warm my way just like it did before,

moving left, right and center just to get onto the edge of the threshold

to bask endlessly and languidly in your warmth…

But I saw through the icy frost you shivered into my thoughts,

clear as day, suddenly and unexpectedly because you showed me.

It’s not me, it’s you.

Cold

It’s as ice

my skin prickly

goosebumps and frustration

my heart thumping

within the ice block

you direct my way

I will warm again

I am sure

But I need to fly away

from you.

Dizzy

This year thus far has been a bit of a roller coaster. Losing a job has been the big thing. And right at the time when so many others have lost theirs as well and the ecosystem is flooded with uncertainty and instability.’

It’s easy to get dizzy with disappointment. Applications are sent in but met with silence. Ghosting has shifted to the job application world. Pivoting seems like the best thing to do since the development sector has been essentially decimated but how do you summarize 20+ years working on the other side of the world and, even more so, how do you parallel your skills and experience with a whole new industry?

Many former USAID folks have pushed out articles on adjusting your resume from USAID-heavy language to the language of the private sector, the pharmaceutical sector or the tech sector. Some are supporting their former colleagues by posting jobs upon jobs on their professional network channels; once you open these up, you’re immediately struck by “100+ other people applied” and then the deflation hits. It seems all the former feds, former USAID, former State employees are all looking and applying to most of the same jobs.

I have no motivational words here. The situation is unimaginable and just plain uncomfortable.

Whispers

Words bubble up and over,

in their haste to take center scene

crowding within themselves,

aching to make a point

and thud out against the soft white,

the tale writing itself – unspooling

undulating and dancing across the page,

painting themselves out of your head,

looking for a place to call home,

a place for the whispers to land.