My last year
The Long Fall: A Year in Job Search Purgatory
In recent months, I've found myself watching people around me: colleagues grabbing coffee, friends posting about promotions, and strangers confidently navigating their daily routines.
I'm struck by a question that haunts me: How can these folks function so well?
How do they maintain jobs, build savings, and create stable livelihoods?
More importantly, how can we live in such different realities?
Lately, I feel like I’m living at the bottom. The effort required to change the inertia sometimes feels insurmountable. It feels late. From where I sit, I can't imagine myself out of this dire situation. The gap between their apparent stability and my reality some days, feels unbridgeable.
My browser tells the story: dozens of tabs open at any given time. Articles on resume optimization. Guides for improving interview language. Tutorials on skill development. Advice on better self-presentation.
Each tab represents hours spent learning how to convince someone, anyone, that I'm the right candidate, the right fit, the decision they won't regret making. But the more I put on hundreds of hats, the less authentic I feel about it. I really can’t convince someone of something I feel so burned out to do. I don’t want anything anymore.
I reach out to people I know, hoping to get some feedback and to network. But they ghost me often, even after a conversation or two. I follow up and get nothing. After a few messages, I realize they don’t care.
I've been trapped in this nightmare for more than a year now. Not just looking for a job but begging for one. The few interviews I manage to secure feel like performances I can't quite nail. I make it to the stage, but I'm never capable of moving to the next act. The opportunities were already scarce to begin with, and they seem to shrink with each passing month.
As time drags on, burnout seeps into every aspect of the search. I pour 100% of myself into applications, interviews, resumes, cover letters, thank you notes, and follow-ups. But gradually, they begin to feel disingenuous. The authenticity that once drove me fades as I'm forced to treat this as a numbers game rather than an intentional, targeted search.
The responses become increasingly scarce. I get the growing impression that I'm simply undesirable. Something is fundamentally wrong… with me, with my communication style, with my narrative. Maybe it's my name, my gender, my race, my image. The insecurities mount like compound interest.
The search has stretched so long that the gap in my employment history has become another undesirable trait for potential employers. Each passing month makes me less marketable, not more. It's a cruel paradox: the longer I search, the less employable I become.
As my finances become precarious, desperation reshapes my strategy. I start applying for service jobs, positions I respect but didn’t have in mind at first. But even these reject me, either for my lack of customer service experience or for being overqualified in other areas. The rejection reasons feel like my last options are dwindling. I feel cursed and finally stopped desiring to move, to thrive.
The bills pile up. Rent payments slip… payments lag. My very ability to survive feels jeopardized. My health, once a priority, has been relegated. The motivation to care for myself has evaporated. I don’t leave the house when it’s nice out.
With friends, network contacts, and connections, I maintain a carefully constructed facade. I put on a happy face because I can't afford to let them see me free-falling. I depend on this network for potential recommendations, referrals, and opportunities. Admitting defeat feels like burning the only bridges I have left. But last time I joined friends at a bar I blacked out just to feel numb.
But beneath this performance, the person I used to be has become a stranger. I don't recognize myself today. I don't know what I'm looking for anymore, or why. Nothing makes sense.
I try to impose structure, to force productivity through sheer will. I create schedules and set goals. But anxiety keeps me awake at night, making those productive days impossible. I spend my weeks trying to catch up on sleep, only to fall back into the same cycle.
I'm slowly degrading into someone I don't recognize. I’m now quiet, slow, isolated, and unrecognizable. I used to feel special, motivated, and full of potential. Today, I've become cynical and tired, waiting for a tipping point.