The Craft I Refused to Let Rust

While navigating a job search that has gone on longer than I intended, I've learned a few things about myself that I wasn’t expecting. Maybe someone else needs to hear them too.

When I first "landed" (more like crashed) into the job market, I remember seeing all the statistics. People who had been impacted by workforce reductions were spending months, some even years, trying to land their next role. Me, being eternally optimistic (some would probably say overconfident), thought, That won't be me. I'll have a job soon.

Well...it's been over two months.

I know for many people that isn't a long time, but for me it's already longer than I ever intended it to be.

I actually think I started off pretty strong. I took my first week to let myself feel the feels. I laid in bed mostly (thank you to my previous employer for doing this while my kids were still in school). I didn't feel like watching TV, reading, writing...nothing really. I slept and felt like a teenager on summer break, minus the excitement of having no responsibilities. The responsibilities were still there. Sleep just made them easier to ignore for a little while.

The second week, I took advantage of the quiet and scheduled therapy. I let my feelings be heard and, more importantly, validated. Then I got down to business.

I applied and I applied and I applied. Truthfully, I didn't even know exactly what I was looking for. I just knew I needed something. This was the first time since I was 15 years old that I didn't have a job, and it felt weird. It felt like a part of my identity had been involuntarily stripped away. Thankfully, I also had a husband constantly reminding me that we were going to be okay, even on the days I wasn't so sure.

Things actually started moving quickly. I landed an interview, it went really well, and I received an offer. Then somewhere between the recruiter and the client, it became clear they were looking for a different background than everyone initially believed, and the offer ultimately fell through. That one took a little jab at my confidence.

Then came more interviews, more rejections, and more waiting. With every rejection, my confidence slipped a little more. I knew I was capable, but I also knew I wasn't competing in a normal market. Communications teams were continuously being impacted by layoffs, and every day I'd open LinkedIn and see another announcement. Every one of those posts made me feel two things at once. I felt genuinely sad for the people who had just joined a club none of us wanted to be in, and at the same time I felt my own anxiety grow knowing the market had just become that much more competitive.

I kept reminding myself it wasn't me, it was the market. But knowing that doesn't stop rejection from feeling personal.

My routine definitely came in waves. Some days I felt productive. The laundry was folded, the house was clean, applications were submitted, and I felt like myself again. Other days there were piles of clothes in every room and I questioned everything.

But there was one thing that stayed consistent.

I kept writing.

Not because anyone was asking me to. Not because I had deadlines. Simply because I missed it.

I missed having a job. I missed having a purpose. Building my portfolio from scratch, writing articles, and creating projects gave me something I desperately needed: a mission. It kept my mind focused on creating instead of refreshing my email waiting for someone else to decide my future.

People always talk about the importance of keeping a routine while you're between jobs. Getting dressed every morning, getting out of the house, going for a walk. Which, to be fair, I could probably use a little more of that myself.

But I realized something about myself. The thing I needed to protect wasn't my routine. It was my craft.

Keeping my creativity alive, continuing to write, and giving my brain communication problems to solve is what has kept me going. It's also how I know I'm in the right field.

Lately I've caught myself wondering if I should pivot. Should I start over? I'm still young-ish. I probably could. Friends and family who don't quite understand my love for writing or my fascination with taking something complex and making it simple ask me, "Why don't you just do something else? AI is taking over anyway."

My answer is always the same.

Because I love what I do.

I love breaking down complicated processes and putting them back together in a way people actually understand. To me, it's no different than someone who enjoys crossword puzzles, Sudoku, or solving a Rubik's Cube. It's fun.

In fact, the only thing my husband and I really "fight" about these days is him trying to pry my laptop away from me. We'll be sitting in bed and I'll say, "Hang on, I just need to grab my computer for a second." Not because I have to. Because an idea popped into my head for a blog post. Or I thought of a better way to explain something. Or I simply want to open Microsoft Word and play around for a while.

Somewhere between losing my job and searching for the next one, I realized something I hadn't fully appreciated before.

Writing wasn't just my job.

It was never just my job.

It's how I think. It's how I solve problems. It's how I process ideas. It's how I'm wired.

And if that doesn't tell me I've found what I'm supposed to be doing, I don't know what does.