This is what it looks like to go beyond "It is what it is."
Count like paper on the desk
Ain’t you ain’t just gon accept change
Hang up on the ex
Ain’t no anger, on to next thing
Ain’t nothin wrong with us
Just like ain’t nothin wrong wit less
Hit the floor and reach up
Less is more. At least to us.
Who finna stomp on street but us?
One fist wit a Pom pom. East all us.
Ain’t knockin on this door
Ayy, I’m talkin like this all day
All while I’m on this OA
Long wallet, long dick, long aim
I’m walking on crystal pavement
I walk alone, it’s ok
— from "stuck on me" x deem spencer
Since losing my job, I have felt a variety of emotions, the most recent being absolute determination not to waste away in my bed under the arduous weight of every single rejection email inundating my inbox at every refresh, only interrupted by an ad or perhaps a reminder email from Airbnb. Just a short time before now, I experienced a great bout of shame and hopelessness. In this bout, I learned one of my greatest fears is to live beneath my potential, to allow my purpose to be extinguished by self-pity and macroeconomic turmoil far beyond the immediate reach of my hands. I felt, for a time, that perhaps this was the end for me, the end for my craft. I felt, only for a moment, that perhaps now is the time to turn back, to start anew, to figure out something else. Midwifery, perhaps? I even considered waiting out this downturn on a farm in Asia or a goat nursery in Michigan.
But no, I decided I will not do any of those things. I will not run.
My first trip abroad was effectively me running away from my reality. My parents were divorcing that winter and, as a broken-hearted 18-year-old undone at the realization that true love truly does not conquer all, I ran as quickly as I could across the Atlantic Ocean to avoid participating in such a painful part of my reality. While my belongings were being packed up at home, I was in a suburban Polish house for a month caring for unruly 8-year-old twins, a cat, and a lovely dog named Bella.
I returned at the end of winter break and made haste to continue the rest of my freshman year of college, a place where reality was a bit more malleable and I had a bit more control of my circumstances. But I had not yet accepted reality as it was and that pain followed me back to school, incessantly hovering over my spring semester.
I was but a child then, equipped with dreams and hopes and a newly printed passport. Running away for a bit felt like the most sound option at the time and, in many ways, I still think it was. But now, I am an adult. And I realize when faced with reality, no matter how uncomfortable or painful, there is nowhere to run, but more importantly, there is no need to run. For I now know reality will follow me wherever I go, and if I cannot face it here and now, it will surely demand to be faced wherever I am whenever I may be there.
And the reality of my current situation became quite clear once I silenced my ego and looked at the facts of the matter. I've learned recently that when the ego is minimized, the perspective can be widened and reality can be seen more clearly. The first fact I saw was that this is not about me. My employer did not single me out for anything I did or did not do. Some of the most brilliant designers I've ever met received the very same fate I did, so this is certainly not about me. The dozens of companies that have rejected me have, I believe, not rejected me because I have nothing to offer or because I am inadequate. I like to believe the rejections are manifestations of pure incompatibility, the results of these companies deciding that I am not the right fit for their teams. It is not because I am less or not enough, it is because they want someone different. And I cannot be anyone but me. I cannot be any other designer but the one I am. And if that is not what they want, then they are in their right to turn me away. I wish for them the right fit as much as I wish the same for myself. This is not about me.
The market, the economy, the industry, the whole world is in constant shambles and that has nothing to do with the girl reclining against her headboard reading about linguistics, zoology, and psychology as she breaks ever so often to flip the record on her phonograph.
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An aside: I also noticed this same fact, though with a much slower speed, in my relational rejections. It has been with great diligence that I have reiterated to myself over and over that it is not because I am less or undeserving that people make the decisions they do. It, with absolute certainty, isn't because I'm ugly CUZ BABY WHO??? WHERE???? But despite what I know about myself, people are allowed to think anything they want about me. They even have the right to simply not see me, to render me invisible, to erase me from their reality. I do not need to know why, nor do I need to convince them to do otherwise. Other people's actions, reactions, or lack thereof often have nothing at all to do with me. And there is nothing I can do about it except live and be the most authentic version of myself I can possibly be. I've been warned not to mar the complexities of romantic relationships by comparing them to the ways of industry, but I find quite a parallel here, wouldn't you say? I am who I am and if that is not what they want, I do hope they find it.
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Another fact of the matter is that I must choose daily whether or not I will trust God with my life and my career. My mother puts it plainly to me quite often: "You either goin' trust God or you not. Pick one." And in those moments, when fear that somehow a decision I have made has led to my employment status, I realize she is right and that I truly do only have those two options. I recall then what has happened when I did trust God. What that has looked like and felt like in my life. I then go and read and study what has happened to others when they have trusted God as well as to those who did not. With all this, I then remember that I certainly did not get this far on my own and that I will not be abandoned here on my own, either.
That's how I felt on that plane to Katowice all those years ago. So desperately and incomparably alone. So grieved and angry, yet so resolved to find anything at all that I could hold on to that'd bring me some kind of sense of agency, of control. I thought that's what I needed then. I thought that'd make me feel better. But oh how I wish I could talk to that young lady on that plane and inform her that true rest from her troubles lay in release, not control, of the things beyond her reach. I'd give her the words my mother has often given me. I'd implore her to trust God and realize that things, like the decisions of her adult parents, are never about her, not in her control, and therefore not for her to be concerned over. Knowing Thalia of that day, I hardly think she'd listen, but knowing Thalia of today, I'm grateful this is a choice I make faithfully. Do I do it perfectly? Absolutely not. But I do my best to remind myself who truly is in control so that I can focus on what I can control.
A third fact, which I find quite humorous writing about now actually, is that, as usual, the stakes are far lower than I perceived them. Granted, the fearmongering and doomsday talk of LinkedIn is the worst material for any person to read if they want to enjoy their afternoon without any dread. It is written to make us believe all is over, getting a job is impossible, and AI is going to destroy all of our livelihoods. But in reality, I will be okay. I've only lost my job lol. I still have mobility and sight and good health and a sense of humor and an HBO Max subscription and a solid taste in music. I will not go hungry, I will not go without shelter and clothing. I will not be forced to sell my kidney for money. I will be perfectly fine. There is so much to be grateful for that I can't allow one singular loss to destroy me.
To the Thalia that ran to another continent, though, the stakes were sky-high. I panicked. My world had crumbled. The ground beneath me turned to sinking sand. My sense of home and family and love were shattered. It felt like I had to leave or else I would suffocate. I was unable to face my reality at that moment so, out of pure self-preservation, I left. I was so young and so hurt and simply without the tools I needed to process that change healthily. I did not have the tools to understand what this did and did not mean for me and my life. I just didn't have the perspective then. That Thalia did her best though. She didn't know that the stakes were so much lower than they seemed. She just didn't know, for sure, that she'd be okay. Spoiler: she turned out just fine.
Though to be frank, once the reality of my current employment situation settled in my brain, I panicked momentarily. I feared that with the two degrees I received only by the grace of God and some very encouraging friends, I would have to shuffle along to any minimum-wage job I could find and work my days away doing something I absolutely hated. That was my fear. The stakes seemed to be that if I didn't find a new opportunity in my field, I'd end up hating whatever job I may find and perhaps even hating the life that I may end up living. I've seen what life can look like when I'm doing something I loathe. I went to graduate school and the only thing of use I learned is just how dark it can get when I find no joy in what I do with my time. Let me be the one to tell you, dear friend, it can get quite dark and I hope never to get there again.
Thankfully, the fact of the matter here is that I won't have to. I will be okay. The stakes are quite low, chiefly due to things that were initially perceived as misfortunes last year. My house-hunting journey came to an abrupt halt last Spring, but thank God it did as now I have no mortgage to pay. I never did get a Tesla, but that also means I don't have a Tesla note. Nearly every denied desire of last year would have been a ball and chain for me this year. Today, I am no prisoner and the consequences of my circumstances are, for now, unnoticeable. That is a blessing I will be ever grateful for.
I also will take a moment to say that, in my bout of shame, I very briefly thought that my friends and family would find me an embarrassment, someone to be pitied, a failure, a realization of their own fears of this economic state of our country. I worried that some would find me to blame for my fate. But I'll say, as I do often, that I know the most caring and compassionate people and that if they did have any of these sentiments, they by no means revealed any signs of them to me. On the contrary, they've encouraged me more than I could've asked for and I am deeply grateful to them.
Perhaps in a different piece, I will contemplate how I have been spending my time during my #funemployment, but for now, I thank you for sitting with me and my thoughts. I wish you a swift release of what you can't control, lowered stakes, loving friends, and the strength to face your reality as it is every day without running for the hills. You have no need to run, my friend. We'll all be just fine.
