Passionate

I haven't worked in the last 8 months. I had anxiety just typing that sentence. Unemployment has such a negative stigma associated with it. It took awhile for me to get over that. Saying or writing the word “unemployed” somehow evokes a feeling of shame. It’s shoved in your face in some of the most unexpected places too; at the doctor getting my flu shot, filling out an online order form. I was sure I was going to be asked at the Target checkout buying tampons. It’s also one of the first things people ask you upon meeting.

I began thinking ahead of time how I’d answer this question. In addition to being unemployed, I was/am single. (hit me up). It being 2016, I’m on the dating app Tinder. When signing up for a profile you’re prompted to list your profession. It’s the first thing you see under someone’s picture. If it doesn’t happen to be listed, or is a vague description, such as “self-employed” (which usually means weed dealer, btw), then it’s the first question asked when you’re chatting. Well, in my case it’s the second question. I’d rather know how tall you are… I can date a dealer, I cannot date someone who is 5’6”. 

So what did I say to people I met? Well, I straight up lied to some - knowing of course it wasn’t going anywhere. I’ve been a Spiritual Retreat Leader, a reporter for “High Times” magazine, and my favorite, Personal Concierge to Donald Trump - the irony was too amusing. Others I skirted around the issue, saying I was doing side jobs, etcetera. A select few would be privy to the truth, I am a 33 year old, single, unemployed woman. Look away children - the horror!!

Our identity is so wrapped up in what we do when, in most cases, our jobs are not a direct reflection of our passions. Sure you’ll meet or know a few people who are in sync with life and work, but mostly you just hear about them on TV or the internet: Steve Jobs, Mark Zuckerberg, Oprah, Bono…

The thing is, I’m a decent, dare I say, semi-awesome person. I have no criminal record (yet), I’ve never had a DUI, the only things I’m addicted to are Sour Patch kids and Leonardo DiCaprio. I love making people feel loved and I try to be humble and grateful for everything I do have.

True love spans the ages

It would be kinda creepy weird however, if that’s how you introduced yourself to someone.

“Hi, my name is Jacqueline. I’m a super awesome person who loves animals and making people feel loved”. I’d sound like Malibu Barbie. 

You also cannot list these personal attributes in a resume:

• Strengths: organized, detail oriented, super awesome
• Weaknesses: puppy cuddles, tart candies

I’ve had the wonderful opportunity to think more about this as I’ve filled out hundreds of applications and sat through multiple boring interviews. It’s unfortunate that we put so much emphasis on occupation. I wouldn’t be any less of a kind, funny person if I were a cashier at Walmart, but would I date a cashier at Walmart? Probably not. There’s such a double standard involved.

Now, as my unemployment is coming to an end, I’m thinking real hard about what I want to spend my time doing. Sometimes the thought of working in an office from 9-5 makes me want to bash my head against a file cabinet. The images of fluorescent lights and stale coffee haunt my dreams. At the same time, the comfort of a steady income is almost an inherent need.

I’ve been reading books about “finding my passion”. “Big Magic” by the uber talented Elizabeth Gilbert, was wonderful. It had a general bias towards writers which was “write” up my alley - get it… write… (Did I mention I also love puns?) The more I’ve thought about what I love, the more signs I’ve noticed pointing me towards writing. I come back to it ALL THE TIME. I love literature and storytelling. I love quotes and lined notebook paper. I love the direct connect between my mind and my keyboard. I love how I can be moved to tears upon reading just one powerful sentence. I love how I can fall in love with someone who doesn’t really exist. Writing is magical. I need it in my life to feel complete.

Once I’ve edited a blog piece and have it ready to post, I feel a sense of euphoria. It’s a rush knowing how many eyes are going see it. It’s scary to know every word will be dissected and digested by total strangers and friends alike. But it moves me, it makes me feel present and totally connected to myself. I can tune out anything when enter the writing zone.

So that’s it, that’s my passion and my calling in life and right now as I write this, I’m putting it out to the Universe that this is what I want, and this is what I shall have!

I’m not becoming a writer, I AM a writer.

Ok, I’m climbed down from my magical unicorn now. I fully realize that I cannot simply apply to be a writer. If I’d like to switch career paths I’d need to go back to school, which isn’t out of the question, but not a feasible option right now. So, until my first novel takes off, or I become a millionaire for some reason, I’m going to have to step back into the sometimes soul-sucking working world. I’m doing so with renewed energy. I finally know the path I’m on is the right one. I can feel it in my guts and bones.

I don’t know how long it will take. I don’t know how many more stale cups of coffee I’ll ingest, but I can see my end game now and I am pumped, friends!

I’d like to say a “thank you” in advance for your support. Your good vibes, positive energy and encouraging comments are truly the magic behind the reason I can do this! I’m excited and terrified and kinda craving some sour patch kids. I know ya’ll will stay tuned and hopefully my journey will inspire some of yours.

Cheers to our passions, friends!

Love and much gratitude,

Jax

*PS: my apologies for the wonky line spacing and font size, the platform isn't playing very nice with me tonight*

Depressed

I feel like I have a million things to write about, but nothing at all. I guess that’s a perfect analogy of my life right now. I’m deep into a soul sucking, energy zapping, mental marathon of a depression.

Depression is an extremely personal disease. Though I’m usually comfortable writing about most of my afflictions and issues, depression is one I've kept closely guarded the past 10 years or so. That is until the most recent bout, when I finally asked for help and the results that came about.

I've been medically treated for depression for about 10 years. I started seeing a therapist, as it was strongly suggested when I was diagnosed with MS. Though I've had my ups and downs, for the most part I've been able to lead a well-rounded emotional life. The last few months though, it’s like all the issues I've been trying to maintain came boiling to the surface and erupted.

I didn't wake up in this hole of a depression. It was a culmination of sad events that ignited it. I had to put my dog to sleep; my boyfriend – suffering from his own depression – broke up with me and moved out. It was then, slowly, oh so slowly depression entwined himself into my everyday life, making even the simplest tasks exhausting.

After a couple months, I was no longer sleeping through the night. The stress and lack of sleep caused my eczema to flare even more than normal. At my worst I was covered on over 75% of my body. I couldn't stop itching. My skin was so red it looked like I had sunburn. I was constantly cold from radiating so much heat; I was embarrassed about how it looked. I had been living from steroid treatment to steroid treatment for my skin and I guess my mind and body finally had enough.

My lowest of low days was a Saturday. I got up at 10am, drank a cup of tea, and had an uncontrollable crying spell that put me back into bed until 5pm. I got up and ate some toast, remembered why I had been crying before and went back to bed until 9 the next morning. I wandered around the rest of the weekend like a zombie. My thoughts were either racing too much to think straight, or I couldn’t form a coherent thought. I dreaded getting up to go to work. I was exhausted from lack of sleep, ashamed of my skin and stressed out that I was not pulling my share of the load in the office.

I resented everyone I talked to who was in a good mood, I withdrew from social engagements, I stopped posting on social media. I felt like I was covered in tar, moving slowly, constantly wiping it out of my face, trying to see what was coming.  I couldn't keep up anymore.

I went into work on a Monday and told my bosses what was going on. I have only been at this job for 6 months; I was terrified of the reaction I would get. I shouldn't have been surprised at the fact that they were wonderful. They offered to give me time off so I could sort out everything without the added stress of work. They gave me the flexibility to work from home and come into the office when I felt like it. It was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me – telling me to put my health first.

So I went home that day, cried more and tried to put together a plan of what to do.  I saw my therapist who told me that this was the worst depression she has seen me in and suggested an intensive day therapy program. I went to my general practitioner who told me she was no longer comfortable managing my depression and anxiety meds and told me I needed to see a psychiatrist. I went to my dermatologist about my skin that referred me to a specialist at the U. They gave me new meds to try (again) and referred me to an allergist. My skin started to clear up and I started the search for a psychiatrist. I called several places who either aren't accepting new patients, don’t take my insurance, or have a month long wait list. I’m banging my head against a wall! I finally decide to put my health first, to do something to manage this state I’m in and I cannot get help!

I’m trying to be patient, but I feel awful. I’m antisocial; I don’t want to be in public. I have an impossible time trying to find the positive in things. It’s like a big dark cloud is covering this deep pit where I’m stuck sitting. It’s terribly lonely because no one knows what to say to someone who is depressed and anxious. It’s not like a cold – you don’t just “get better”. You don’t wake up one day saying “man! I’m so glad this depression is over!”

It’s a waiting game, it’s a dangerous one. I get why people end their lives due to depression. The feeling of hopelessness is a horrible one. Feeling like no one understands what you’re going through; feeling like no one cares, feeling like a fool for not being able to “snap” out of it… I suffer from severe asthma, severe eczema, allergies, multiple sclerosis, anxiety and depression and I can tell you that out of all of these things, depression is the worst. It’s not visible to the naked eye, it’s hard to explain, and there are no “chicken soup” remedies to help you feel better.

It’s just keeping putting one foot in front of the other. It’s getting out of bed each day even if it is 2pm. It’s giving yourself a break if that’s the only thing you accomplished that day. It’s holding onto the hope that a doctor appointment is coming soon. It’s remembering that this is a chemical imbalance in my brain – not something I caused and that with the right medications I’ll feel able to feel happy again.

At the end that’s all I really want. I don’t want to be a millionaire or have hundreds of friends. I don’t want to be a size 4 or conquer the world, I just want to wake up and feel joy again. I want to go to bed excited to start the next day. I want to feel utter contentment for the life I have built for myself. Maybe, just maybe – tomorrow will be the start of that day. 

IF YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW IS SUFFERING FROM DEPRESSION AND NEEDS HELP, PLEASE DO NOT HESITATE TO REACH OUT: 1-800-273-8255