I haven’t worked a 40-hour work week in almost an entire month now. In fact, I haven’t worked more than 40 hours combined in the last three weeks alone. Needless to say, I can sufficiently admit, that I’m currently in a really dark place right now, and it does not feel too good.
Throw out a bunch of rhetoric about the economy, the government, and the status of the market, but the fact of the matter is that I’m not working, it’s driving me slowly crazy, and I can’t see the light at end of the tunnel anywhere. Companies all across Atlanta are low-balling designers, if they’re even looking to hire, because they’re all looking for free, unpaid, intern talent to do a half-assed job instead of paying for experienced designers. Even the market for designers on the freelance-wire has become laughably low; to the point where I turned down jobs when I should’ve taken them, just so I could be working at all, instead of thinking something better would come along, because I haven’t heard a peep since.
Long story short, I’m losing a little bit of control in my personal world, and it’s a feeling I do not like. Being somewhat of an anal-retentive control freak, this is not in my best interests. I speak with perhaps three or four people on a regular basis, and my temper has been quick, and vitriolic. I spend my days at home, because I can’t afford to be running out and about unless it is for essentials, and my already-diminished bank account is going to be stretched pretty hard if I don’t find work, any work, soon.
Most everything is making me mad. I can’t speak to anyone about it, because nobody can say anything that can cheer me up right now, because words don’t pay the bills. I haven’t spoken with my family, and they’re mostly unaware of the situation, because I don’t feel like listening to any fucking lectures.
This is my purgatory, because as shitty as I feel, I know that there is a worse place to be, which would be my hell. My days all blend together, and my weekends have lost meaning. My daily routine is completely repetitive, and I’m trying to keep physically active so I don’t turn into a fatter lump while I’m not working here. There is a cauldron of rage boiling inside of me, because I feel so helpless, and completely at the mercy of a dismal working market to hope that they’ll call me back and give me a shot at normalcy. At this point, it really doesn’t matter. I don’t care if I’m freelancing, or actually succeed in finding a full-time job, I need to be working, I need to not be feeling worthless and as a dreg to society, and I need to feel like I’m pulling my weight in the world. Until then, I’m stuck in my personal purgatory, and nothing is going to cheer me up.