Day 24 (If I Didn't Know How to Swim I Would Drown)

One of my favorite places in Stamford is Cove Island Park. My preferred time of day is dusk. I spent the evening walking a few miles beside the city’s beaches as the clouds rolled in with the night’s sky, and sun fell away with the tide. The sweet smell of dried grass and salt water spray roused my mood as the winds whispered to the leaves, stirred the sands, and made a scenic mess of my hair. The sounds of rubber against asphalt and broken conversations were almost like lyrics to the melody of crashing waves in the distance. It was the perfect time to clear my head. But, now I’m home, spending quality time with my very own reality.

According to government websites, the Bridgeport/Stamford area has an unemployment rate of 7.6 percent as opposed to the nation’s 9.7 percent. Although 17 states, as well as the District of Columbia, have reported decreases, 26 states reported over-the-month increases, leaving nearly 14.9 million people without the reassurance of an occupation. While I was employed I never saw myself as a number, at the moment I am just another statistic.

The Wall Street Journal says it should take the average person one month per every $20,000 they are seeking in salary to find a compatible job. This seems reasonable and offers me hope as the first month of my new life without a laborious income draws to a close. Being as stubborn as I am, combined with an overwhelming fear of commitment, I have passed on job offers in unrelated fields of interest. Some think I’m crazy for doing this but, I don’t want to jump into bed with the first pay check that gives me the time of day. I am an eternal romantic and want to save myself for the right opportunity. I am still waiting for, “The One”.

Day 21 (Didn't See That Rabbit Hole Before Falling In)

I haven’t written in a while. I have, as I expected, tossed aside my unemployment blog experiment in favor of a different, darker, trial of introspection. My brand new toy is an environmentally induced self apocalypse. A “My world is over“ special edition made up of current events. It’s pretty doom and gloom, but passes hollow time fairly well. Or, it did until the continuous hope of hitting rock bottom became such a let down after waking each morning feeling lower than the day before. The decent eventually brought me to a point where I couldn’t even imagine the end to an existence would be such a miserable trip. This realization of how far fetched my reckoning had become lead me to abandon my latest ideals. Believing all is lost over an extended period of time turns wretched. That’s what happened to me. But, I can’t take the wretchedness. I want a different attitude.

I lost the appetite for my own destruction while out to dinner with friends earlier. I was faking my way through another evening of socialization when things began to shift. For the first time in a while I stepped outside of myself and saw people living in their own worlds. Breathing, talking, laughing, eating, being. It reminded me of my goals, my hopes and dreams. It reminded me that I was still alive.

I think the key to success is a good sense of direction and lately I haven’t had one. I no longer know who or what I want to be. I feel like I’ve been stripped bare, and while cold and uncomfortable, I think it might be what I’ve always wanted. With all of the pressure to be successful, sometimes I forget that it’s me that gets to decide who I want to be next. Standing alone and uncovered gives me the opportunity to figure it out, and this week I’ve decided to get back to trying. I will do it with optimism and a smile…even if it kills me.