It Took Me Eight Whole Months to Find a Job. It Was Torture.

When I have nothing but time for more than six months or so, my depression soars. My anxiety about money is through the roof. And the pressure to make something out of each day, when all I’m really doing is writing little words on my little Word Doc, words that people may never see and I may never get paid for—all while convincing myself, in the se

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I won’t speak for anyone else, but I will say that this is the first time in my life that I’m not so confident the future’s going to be as rosy as I once was. The reasons work life might not be number one on the priority list right now are not lost on me. But I am still nostalgic for a time when the gravitational pull of work was strong. For me and... See more

I’d spent summer 2020 recruiting for journalism jobs, of which there were none