Rock bottom bayou

In May, unemployment hit 9.4%. In May alone, America felt the loss of 345,000 jobs. Since mid April, I have been one of the 3 million+ unemployed. My optimistic job search finally took a steep tumble, hitting rock bottom at the end of another “groundhog-type” day job searching.

I examined over and over in my head where I might hove gone wrong with the job search. What avenue of networking have I not tried; what city have I not searched; what company have I not created a profile with; what skills am I lacking; what decisions I have made in my life to leave me jobless?

“It is not you, it is the economy,” I hear in my head.

Yet, my thoughts return to finding the links among my decisions. Up til now, I thought I did everything right to stay competitive in the job market. I got good grades in high school; I served my country and deployed a million miles away from home; I earned and paid for my bachelors degree; I sought out jobs which I knew nothing, only to gain technically-related skills.

What have all those sound decisions brought me? Nothing.

I fit no category. I am too old to be entry level, yet not specific enough to fit into a snug position. I have too many years since my military career which makes my skills obsolete for certain jobs. But, my military experience means nothing to the civilian world. I am only FAMILIAR with databases and web design, not EXPERIENCED enough to compete with certified nerds. What I am doesn’t fit on a resume.

I hit rock bottom when I entered my living room today. In the midst of me being glued to my computer, searching, uploading and repeating the process for 8 hours, I missed MY LIFE. Treading through stacks of magazines, paper, shredded pillows and blankets, I discovered how my beloved dogs occupied themselves. I was ignoring their need for attention because I believed the responsible choice was to stop at nothing until I found a job. The responsible choice left the ones who surround me neglected. The most precious things in life have been forgotten and discarded.

Where I was once an evangelist for “carpe diem,” I stopped breathing. I stopped looking. I stopped living.

I stopped enjoying the present because I have been so consumed with finding my future.