The Search Continues

I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m not sure which is worse… Not having a job and having the time to look for one, or having a job that doesn’t pay enough with no time to look.

Right now, I’m in the latter category. No clue how I’m going to manage my bills, exhausted from doing something I don’t enjoy, and very little time to find something I do enjoy and will pay the bills. That said, I STILL believe wholeheartedly in my decision to move here and create a new life for myself. I knew it would be difficult, I just didn’t know how difficult and to be quite honest, I haven’t been living like it is.

Frustrated by my inability to find a job and with the craziness of the holidays, admittedly, I let the search slide longer than I should have. Now, I’m paying for it- quite literally.

So here’s the plan:
Get on it!!!
I’ve organized my thoughts, I know what I want. Now I just need to buckle down and make it happen… Use every resource I can possibly use.

I’m tired of being negative to the people I care about and the new people in my life. People want to be surrounded by positive people… Including employers.

I know I want to write- that’s why I started this blog.
I know I love to read- hmm… That fits in somewhere…
I know that I love to organize people and things.
I know that I can’t sit at a desk all day… Unless, of course, I am reading and/or writing.

I have been saying that I want a career in non-profit development, and honestly, I would love it. Mostly, because I am passionate, believe in social change, and believe in the power of an organization to strengthen a community or solve a social problem.

Most of my life however, I have said I would either become an editor or go into advertising/public relations. Yup, so all of those still appeal to me… But something about being an editor in a publishing company suddenly stands out, speaks volumes.

To be around people who love books as much as I do? What more could I ask for? I am in the fast-paced, savvy capital of the world, and I could be surrounded by witty book-lovers? Umm… Yes, please! Publishing also speaks to my interest in both development and the advertising world. Both are necessary components of book sales.

So now it’s just a matter of putting my money (metaphorical money- I don’t have any of the real kind) where my moth is. I know I have what it takes. I know that given the chance, I would add an exceptional energy and determination to any company. That is, given the chance…

My job now is to network… To pool every resource and get creative because within the next couple of months, I better be doing something I care about, no matter how small I have to start!!

Hmm… Maybe this blog will help…

Unknown's avatar

Author: Room to Regulate

Room to Regulate started as an emotional release – I was tired of giving space to all the heaviness that comes with being your family epicenter – when I'm not regulated, no one is regulated. I wrote it all down. Every overwhelming, anxious thought. I sat with it. Then I built around it – because my story isn't unique. I have ADHD – late diagnosed, of course, the Millennial Mom special. Our anxiety manifested in different ways. We were unlabeled, mislabeled, re-labeled. We held it together through our 20s. Many of us excelled in our careers, and then came motherhood. For a long time I thought the exhaustion, the mental load, the constant recalibrating was just what motherhood felt like for everyone. Don't get me wrong. Whether you are neurodivergent, raising a neurodivergent child, a house full of neurotypicals (do those exist?!), married, unmarried, working, or not – parenthood knocks the wind out of you. And when you're an information seeker, the "why" rabbit hole is endless. It took a while to understand that a lot of what I was carrying wasn't a personal failing — it was a structural one. The systems around us — schools, workplaces, insurance, policy — were never built as an ecosystem. They were built as individual systems. The byproduct of that puts families with the most structural need at the highest risk for falling through the cracks. The hardest parts of my days were the predictable result of that gap, not evidence that I was doing it wrong.

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