On Work.

Unemployment isn't only about income and financial liquidity. Studies have shown that the unemployed suffer depression, anxiety, detachment and disconnection, and significantly fewer stolen office supplies. As the New Year is underway, along with resolutions and renewed optimism, I am back at work, gainfully employed for the first time in a year. The longest, most arduously strenuous year of my life. If suffering builds character, my savings account must be bursting.

See, going on unemployment a year ago coincided with a number of changes that shifted the sands beneath my feet, and forced me to reconsider fundamental aspects of my life. I had been feeling burned-out about a year before I lost my job, and whereas before I was able to reach down and extract more energy and enthusiasms, this time I came up with nothing, which made it harder, if not impossible to exert the kind of work necessary to at least feign dedication to a job in which I no longer believed. Corporate overlords notice this kind of thing. It all goes down in my permanent record.

One of my best friends moved an hour away, while another was increasingly spending more time with his girlfriend, soon to be wife. The social dynamics of my apartment building changed, and many old friends moved away. Like it or lump it, co-workers are a surrogate family, so my job loss also meant friend loss. Coinciding all this with the most dreadfully isolating winters made me feel a sense of lonely despair at a time of scathing self-analysis, combined with a lack of energy for such endeavors made for some, uh, dark nights of the soul.

So it wasn't just the weather that made my Oregon trek necessary, but the physical relocation that would and has allowed me to make some sense of what happened. Plus, the Vikings, and Twins had terrible years. It was just time to go. I read nearly nothing but philosophy, burying myself in the Stoics and Existentialists, trying to re-purpose my worldview, and glean a sense of perspective to orient myself at a time when my tethers had snapped. I'm proud of the fact that I didn't go batshit lunatic, buy a rifle, join a cult, or donate to the Tea Party. One of the Stoics' central tenets is that things can always be worse.

I don't think there's enough attention paid to the mental and psychological ramifications of unemployment. A job is more than a paycheck, and I never realized that until my lack became a fixture. That it coincided with other changes in my life made it harder to understand and contextualize. It put a strain on everything, including my relationship with Sara, who, bless her beyond words, has been understanding and patient with me as I have made my way back to a semblance of routine, normalcy, and self. I get that change is life's only constant, and that actualizing it leads to growth. Please, though, no more of that for a while. Let's not only help the unemployed with job searches, but also with what it means to them to wear the stigma of not being a provider, and not having anywhere, or anything to do for days, months, and years at a time.