Anticipation or Angst…. you decide

My week has been relatively unproductive and I’m a mess over it.  I had a job interview on Monday (after realizing that we are just not making enough money to sock away for our kids) and during the course of discussion it quickly became clear that I don’t get out very often.  I firehosed my interviewers with information, some good some bad, and in the end it was certainly a painful train wreck.  Of course, it’s because I never talk to anyone…especially adults.  Needless to say,  I forgot what it feels like to look for work and to be judged in this fashion and one of my coping mechanisms for this pressure is to talk.   You get one chance to make an impression and in the end, all you can do is hope it’s the right one.  Then the wait begins.

You wonder if they want a second interview, or if they will take the time to even notify you that they’ve chosen another applicant.  Because it’s necessary these days for background checks, credit approvals and previous employment verification, your mind goes back to every single transaction and purchase you’ve ever been involved in and wonder if there is some sort of weird and mysterious report card they might gain access to and dismiss you based on a failing grade.  I kind of wander around the house in limbo, just waiting (and not doing anything productive whatsoever)… and then yesterday I got the call for a second interview.  I made the cut, but I think the knot in my stomach is actually bigger than before.  They say my industry is one where you shouldn’t burn bridges, and this is probably true considering very few have the tenacity to not only stay in the business, but to also be successful… it’s conceivable that you may need their help one day.  I would know, because  I dipped my toe in as an entrepreneur in this profession more than a decade ago.  It didn’t go well.  I was smart enough to exit before I had financial difficulties that I couldn’t recover from, but sadly, I would just find a couple of other difficulties to replace them.  It’s true that in the end you will emerge wiser (always try to make lemonade from your lemons), but also (at least for me) more paranoid and investigative.  What resulted from this lesson on life’s highway would begin a chapter where I literally believed no one… unless they were related to me.

Combine this with Motherhood, and you have the perfect storm for depression.  Then, somewhere along on your journey, your family unit is challenged and compromised, and your responsibility quickly shifts from professional growth, to survival.  For me, the unemployment was timely, considering I had an infant and a toddler to take care of (and two school aged kids)… but when money is a driving force in your survival (as much as mental health) there are times when you have to step back and see if there is opportunity for you and for your family that needs to be taken advantage of… either out of necessity, or want.   Being in the real estate industry sucks is challenging, but when it’s all the experience you’ve ever had… what else can you do?

Oftentimes, people think that this profession only has people who are motivated by making a quick buck, and they couldn’t be more wrong… if they were right, we’ wouldn’t be struggling right now and my husband would be setting aside ethics for contracts.  Don’t get me wrong, my husband is a pretty good sales person, and there are many times when I need to tell him to take the spin to the curb, and get on the phone and use it on someone that he wants to buy a house from him… because it’s not working on me.  I’ve become such a cynic in every aspect of my life as a byproduct of my journey; so much, that any and everyone I meet as a result will be subjected to my microscope.  And it ain ‘t fun.  For anyone.  Still, I realize that he has reached a level of burn-out that is about to drive him mad (he’s working 6 days a week, and he really misses his kids and being home).  I am able-bodied, and minded (most of the time), and owe it to him to see if I can ease some of the financial burden he feels.

Thus, I sit here dealing with the knots in my stomach, wondering if it’s now time to make some extreme changes around my house.  And then there’s that aching I feel… because I want to write.  And only write.

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