First and foremost, let me appologize for dropping off the planet last week.
I had grand posting plans, I really did. And then life got in the way.
It happened so fast, I’m just now starting to get a grip on what happened. One minute I was driving to my office, mentally reviewing my to-do list and thinking about what I’d write on Wednesday, and the next I was driving home, unemployed and utterly broken. I’ve never lost a job before. I’ve always moved on to bigger and better, never been let go. And all of a sudden, here I am. Jobless, in a city I don’t know with an apartment I can’t afford.
One of very few rules that I never break in my life has to do with work and the internet. I do not talk about my job in any blog I write for. Never have, never will. So in that spirit, I’m not going to go any more in-depth on what happened, the reasoning behind it or if it was fair. I’m going to leave it at this: I left everything I had, loved and knew to take a risk, to take what I thought was my dream job, thinking I’d be there for a good long time. I came to Austin for one reason, and that was my job. And two months later, it’s gone.
I’ve gone through shock, anger, disbelief, and I’m still trudging through the depression part. I think that stage is going to last a lot longer than I’d like it to. Everyone keeps telling me I’m going to look back at this and say it was the best thing that ever happened to me, that in 10 years it won’t matter. That’s great, but what the hell am I supposed to do right now?
For three days straight I lay in bed, alternating between crying myself into panic attacks, sending my resume to head-hunters and half watching Freaks and Geeks in a comatose state. It’s important to note, once again, that I am brand new here. I have 3 friends, a former flame and zero family. My support network is everywhere but here, and there’s only so much you can get from a phone call. Thank God for kindred spirits, I’ve got one person who’s rapidly become my best Austin friend since moving here (I have a lot of best friends, all with corresponding cities or stages of life attached to the title) who threw me a rope on Friday. He took me to our neighborhood gay bar and hugged be for what seemed like forever. The power of a hug, man. It’s something else. I started down my recovery road, one I am still walking, to be sure.
I’ve got some options. Stay here, find whatever I can, hope I can make rent. Or go home, move into my parent’s basement for free, dig out of the debt I’m buried in after moving down here (I didn’t have much warning before the job offer, and my savings were dismal at best even then) and learn the family business.
I thought I knew. Litterally, two hours ago, I was sure that I was moving home. I was going to learn a new trade, and inherit a business in the next 10 years. It was going to be ok. I was going to leave tomorrow.
And then I found out my subleaser wasn’t concrete yet. I won’t know if I have someone to take over my apartment until next week and I can’t bring myself to leave that up to luck because, let’s be honest, I don’t have much of that right now. So I’m here until it happens, and in a lot of ways, that’s good. It’s forcing me to pump the brakes, allowing me to see the things I haven’t had time for in Austin and make sure I’m making the right decision.
The thing is, the longer I’m here, the more I’m doubting my decision to leave. It makes the most sense financially, even professionally to pack up and move home, but I can’t help wondering if I’m giving up. If I owe it to myself to search like hell for another apartment, beg my mom to help me with rent until I find a job, do whatever it takes to stay. I just don’t know.
So this post was supposed to be my announcement that QY would be going through some changes, that it would be moving to STL with me and following a slightly different direction. It is all about starting from scratch and leaving your comfort zone, and for me, moving in with my parents and starting over yet again in a town where people don’t actually believe I’m gay because I dated that guy that one time is actually the farthest thing from a comfort zone.
But now, I don’t know. So as is very typical of my life these days, I am a bundle of loose ends, with an impressively indecisive personality.
Please, please, please please advise.
Even if you’re just commiserating. I could use the help.