State of Jojo

The more time I have the less I get done. I have been unemployed now for a few weeks and I have posted seldom (about once a week). When I was first unemployed I thought "well now I will have tons of time to write tons of fabulous posts". Needless to say, that did not happen. When I had to fit it in between 5:30 and 6:30 in the morning, my fingers would fly over the keys so fast my brain couldn't keep up. I would think, write, create in such a flurry sometimes I wasn't sure what I had written until it was done.

Now I have all the time in the world (relatively speaking) to post and I just can't seem to get my butt in the chair and do it. Maybe it is the fodder for my posts so often came from work, something someone said or did made me think or reminded me of something. Now there is just me and my cats on most days. My days are filled with cleaning, cooking, letter writing, reading want ads, sending resumes and e-mails, these are not the things great posts are made of. When I was on a tight schedule I couldn't wait to have my hour to myself to hammer out something. Now I think, "What do I have to say?" "Oh, I'll do it later" and then later never comes. There are so many things I still want to talk about and so many stories I want to tell. It is just so much harder to make myself do it.

I have never been prone to depression. Until now. It is not a deep depression but a mild case of worthlessness that is nagging at me. I have no marketable skills. I have worked in a very specific industry for a very long time and I am no longer young and cute. I read the ads and they all want skills I don't have or they want a four year degree I don't have. What difference does it make? Even if I had a degree from college it would have been from 20 years ago, who would care?

I could work at Wal-mart for $7.40 an hour. I make more than that on unemployment. I was at the high end of the pay scale for my industry. The industry is hurting, everywhere. There is no way someone is going to pay me what I was making, especially with no degree and no "skills" (Microsoft word, excel, photoshop, outlook, windows XP). All those things that almost all the want ads that aren't for forklift drivers ask that you have.

The "dislocated worker" program at the local Minnesota Work Force Center will hopefully pay for me to take classes to learn all these fun things so I am marketable to more places. I don't want to work in an office. I realize that is probably what it will come down to though. After so many years of freedom and autonomy it will be very very hard to have to tow the line and work in a structured environment.

I am sometimes still so angry about what happened and the way I was treated that I can hardly see straight. I fluctuate from wishing them all the ills in the world and hoping that they sink like the Titanic to feeling sorry for them and hoping that they survive and everythings works out an the business gets stronger. I heard they were hiring someone to come in and teach someone the things that I used to do that no one else knew how to do. The problem is I cared, he doesn't I hope they have fun. I still have this huge chunk of betrayal sitting in my gut that won't seem to go away. I try to put a positive spin on things and am trying really hard to find that silver lining I am sure is on this cloud but it gets harder everyday. I am running out of money and self-esteem.

I am going to go hug my kid now. That always makes me feel better.