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Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts

Thursday, October 29, 2015

TL;DR job-hunting and life-upheaval is stressful

I have been thinking with some guilt on my complete failure at blogging this year.  My general goal is to post at least once a month; this year I have fallen far short of that goal.  Partly I haven't had anything I want badly enough to write about and partly I just spend very little time on my computer anymore (phone and tablet have essentially taken over my internet needs).  But the urge to blog has at last returned to me, as it so often does, because I am having a lot of emotions and I need to vent them.  This is why my blog is so entertaining...

So what is going on?

What is going on is that it turns out I am kind of a major coward.  I do not like change, even when it is a change I have wanted for a very long time.  But, in the words of the immortal Lewis Carol, I shall endeavor to begin and the beginning and when I get to the end, stop.

The first issue that must needs be addressed is money, though I'll try to be quick.  Suffice it to say, I have none.  My finances have been dwindling since the beginning of this year.  I did that thing where I pretended like I was rich and carefree because I started the year not entirely broke.  It didn't take long for me to realize that was a horrible plan, and months later I'm still mentally slapping myself for it, but sadly the damage is done.  Things have been grim ever since, more or less.  My life now is a state of constant white knuckling from one paycheck to the next.

To be sure, I am aware of my good fortune.  I may not have any extra, but I have not yet come up short and I cannot begin to say how grateful I am for that fact.  But knowing that your life is the financial equivalent of that fork and toothpick trick and that the slightest bump will bring everything down around your ears is....wearing.

Perhaps this preceding stress will give me some excuse for my reaction, then, to the news Caleb gave me a few weeks back.

For over a year now Caleb has periodically come down to the basement to have a little chat with me about "the future of the company."  Every time he likes a different plan--release lots of new products one conversation, shift into high-end markets the next.  Then, about five weeks ago he comes to me again.  But this time his plan is to close CH Robotics down entirely.  This has always been listed in the possible options, but never seriously considered till now.  But it is all very vague.  He's going to look into selling, but maybe he'll just sort of go dormant, or maybe he'll officially close up shop.  He isn't sure.

Even though this sounded like another one of Caleb's ephemeral ideas--typically forgotten in a few days--it nonetheless sparked a pretty nasty anxiety attack.  That whole gratitude thing about always coming up flush no matter how close, it only works because I have this magical job that pays me really well.  Suddenly my rainbows and unicorns job has gone from anchor to...what is the opposite of an anchor?  The wind?  Sure, let's go with the wind.  Whimsical and dangerous to rely upon.
I prefer this sort of whimsy.  If you do as well, then might I suggest my whimsical pinterest board
where you shall find many more such whimsical images to make you feel happy
Things have remained in flux since then.  But slowly a picture has pulled together of what is probably going to happen.  Some time ago one of the components on our primary product was going out of stock with our supplier so Caleb bought out their entire stock.  The gyro/accelerometer IC.  This has become Caleb's countdown; as soon as I've used them all up he plans to shut down manufacturing.  At first he projected next spring, then February, and then this week he asked me if I could get them all built by the middle of November.  For those keeping track that means that the deadline of my own joblessness went from March to February to two weeks from now.  Though, I hasten to add that Caleb assured me that he will find things for me to do long enough for me to find a new job.  Bless his heart, he is doing his best to help me as best he can.  His deadline for closing the company entirely after we sell out our inventory is still the end of the year and from what he said I got the feeling he was assuming I'd stay till then as well.  Though I suspect he'll run out of things to keep me busy before then.

The thing is, objectively this really is not a bad situation.  I have been given plenty of warning of what is happening, and my boss is working really hard to help me out in every way he can.  It is a pretty decent bet that I could get another job doing what I've been doing at CH.  And then there's the fact that this is actually a great opportunity.  I have been dying to get out of Utah for years now and, since I finally graduated, the only thing holding me here theoretically has been this job.  Indeed, one could interpret the whole situation as a cosmic kick in the pants to get on with my life.
this is what came up when I googled "cosmic kick in the pants"
and I regret nothing

And yet...

Even though I know all of these things, the fact remains that I am, to use the vulgar expression, scared absolutely shitless about the whole thing.  I am terrified and anxious and perpetually on the verge of freaking out.  Like I said at the beginning, it turns out I'm a massive coward. But I feel like I need to explain why.  Like I need to justify my emotional response even to myself to prove that I'm not just a...a....a cotton-headed ninnymuggins.

First, know that above almost anything else I hate unsureness.  Which isn't a word, but you get the point.  To illustrate just how much I hate it, let me remind you all of the time I withdrew from BYU.  It was 2007 after my study abroad and I was broke.  I spent the summer trying to figure out how I was going to pay for school and taking my first steps down the road of churning anxiety with no outlet.  Ultimately I decided I was going to withdraw for a year and try to earn money.  At the time, if you didn't formally defer by a specific deadline then you were considered withdrawn and would have to reapply to come back.  I made this decision and I immediately felt better--I now had a solid point from which I could navigate further.  I then spent fall semester working, saving no money, and coming to the realization that I had made the wrong decision.  I should have gone back to school.  Nothing made this more clear than the moment BYU called me, a few weeks before winter semester was to begin, to tell me that their enrollment numbers were unexpectedly low so they were opening enrollment to students who had missed the deferral deadline instead of making them re-apply.  Now, I don't know the official numbers, but at the time that felt pretty dang specific to my situation.  Not quite a kick, but certainly a cosmic nudge in the ribs.  But I turned them down.  Because I had already made the decision. I so badly didn't want to have to revisit it, and consequently throw myself back into the marshlands of unsureness, that I consciously chose to continue making the decision that I very definitely knew was the wrong one (which, now I think about it, is possibly why the cosmos have upped their game to pants kicking).  So now apply that to my current situation and maybe you can catch a glimpse of my current unhappiness.  I don't know what is happening with the company and I don't know what is happening with my job and I don't know what is happening with my life and hate all of those thing.  So much.
I give up finding relevant pictures. I'll
 just give you more from my whimsy board
Second.  This one is kind of embarrassing.  As it turns out, I haven't actually had to search for a job in nearly a decade.  And before that I only ever really went through the process twice....eh....once and a half.  My last couple years of high school I worked but whatever...high school jobs aren't exactly critical.  After I graduated I moved to Portland to live with my dad for the summer before college with the vague idea that jobs would be more plentiful in the big city.  I proceeded to spend the entire summer searching fruitlessly until August when I was hired as the BB gun range instructor at a scout camp working 12 hour days for the astounding salary of $75/week.  That is the half.  The once was that same summer after my study abroad.  I was again living in Portland with my dad and I spent a month or two traipsing around Hillsboro handing out resumes (what was even on them??), falling down hills, and eventually getting a job at Target which I would hold for the next four years.  I spent a year in Hillsboro and then transferred down to Orem.  I cannot tell you how much easier it was to move back to Utah knowing that I had a job waiting for me there.  When I eventually left Target it was completely unplanned.  My brother had gotten a job at Vivint recently enough to suggest, in the glow of his employment honeymoon, that I too apply cause then we could work together and how great would that be?!  So I applied on a whim, was called in for a interview a couple days later, and walked out of that interview with a job offer.  Certainly not a change of necessity.  Then, three months later after I realized that the only thing worse than customer support in person is customer support over the phone, I was chatting with Caleb whilst he complained about putting many stickers on many sensors and I joked that he should hire me because putting stickers on things sounded like exactly my kind of work.  And a few weeks later he did just that.  In both cases jobs were basically handed to me.  I feel like I've forgotten how to find jobs, not that I was ever very good at it (BB gun range instructor for $75/week).  All I remember about the process is how ungodly awful it is.  And the couple of hours I spent peeking into the classified corners of the internet today only confirmed that impression.  How do you find jobs to apply for them???
actually...this is totes relevant
Third, and last...moving.  As I said, I've been dreaming of getting out of Utah for years now.  But dreaming of something is a lot different than being faced with the actual reality of it.  I've started thinking of exactly what a move would mean.  I complain about how few friends I have these days, but a few is definitely more than literally zero.  I learned this when I moved into my own apartment.  I told myself before I moved that my roommates were hardly ever home so it probably wouldn't be much different.  Once again, not many is distinctly more than none; rarely home is still more than never home because they don't exist.  If I moved to let's say Pittsburgh or somewhere in Michigan I would truly be alone.  I wouldn't even have acquaintances.  And the friends that I do have hear are dear ones.  I'd be leaving behind Caleb and Kara and Michelle and Taka.  And my brother.  There are all kinds of layers to my feelings about moving away from my brother and only some of them are social.  And as for the rest of my family, no longer would I be a comfortable day's drive away if I wanted to visit.  Add in the hassel of the actual process of moving, something I just went through a few months ago, and would have to translate into the greater trial of moving long distance... Suffice it to say, while I know that I don't want to live in Utah, I am becoming aware that leaving will not be an unequivocally happy decision.
this feels accurate....
So does that explain it?  Do I have a right to my perpetual anxiety and stress?  Do all these reasons add up to legitimacy?  I don't know.  Sometimes I think yes, other times I think I need to get over myself and realize that everything is fine and it will all work out.  Most of the time I am thinking both of those things at once.  But I do feel a little better having written it all out, which is usually the case.  I guess that's a point for Allen, my long lost therapist.  He'd be so proud to hear me say that sharing my stress, even with the vagueness of the internet, makes me feel better.  I do often think of him and wonder if this would all be easier if I could go and tell him all about it.  Who is to say.

But if anyone else has persevered and read through this whole thing, well, I thank you.


Friday, March 20, 2015

Nesting in the Nest

Well, as it's been just shy of two weeks since I moved into my new place, I suppose it's time I posted an update about it.  I tried to come up with just the right name for it and I was drifting towards "treehouse" but then I remembered that my friend Katie Pilkington calls her place her treehouse and even though I'm sure she wouldn't mind me using the name too (especially since she lives literally all the way across the country), I still felt like a fourth grade copycat.  So instead I've settled on calling it my nest.  And while a part of me rebels against that name as being far too cutesy for me, another, louder part of me says that cutesy can go screw itself because I can use whatever words I want.  So "nest" it is.

And guys, can I just say...I absofreakinglutely love it.  

I never realized just how disconnected I've been from all of my communal homes until I had one that was all mine that I could really invest in.  It actively makes me happy to wash my dishes and to fold my laundry and to do all the other chores I've typically hated.  Because I know that I am doing them for myself, and if I leave and come back home, everything will still be in exactly the same state I left it.  It is seriously unbelievable what a difference it turns out that makes to me.

And part of my love is the specific apartment I've found.  If I was in a generic modern place I don't think I would feel half so happy.  But I'm not in a generic cookie-cutter apartment.  I finally stopped a few days ago and actually looked at the historical plate beside the door.  This building was built at the end of the 19th century.  That's right, not the last century, but the one before.  That is amazing!  And as a person who has always dreamed of living in an old building, I cannot imagine a more perfect place for me.

Which is not to say that my little nest doesn't have it's...eccentricities.  As I've said several times, the small irritations make the overall enjoyment all the sweeter.  And my little nest does indeed have it's few annoyances.  Mostly these exist in the bathroom, the one aspect of my little home that I find difficult to deal with.  I was going to enumerate on this point, but I decided that if you really want to hear my struggles, you can just ask me.  Otherwise we'll just say...it is an ongoing adjustment, and leave it at that.

Interestingly, a very large part of what I love about my place is all the plans I have for improving it.  Every time I think about this I hear the line in Leap Year when Amy Adams is talking about the apartment she's trying to get and she says "It's perfect, and I already know exactly how I'm going to change it."  But I think the prospect of being able to have home improvement projects is a significant part of the appeal of this place.  All part of that investing I was talking about. 

Anyway, currently, my list of major projects for this place is as follows:
  • paint the main room
  • build a loft stand for my bed
  • either buy a bookshelf or install shelves to get my boxes of books and movies off the floor
  • put shelves in the bathroom
The last item is important, but not pressing so I don't really worry about it.  But the first three have been stressing me out since I moved in.  Obvious as it seems, I had to sit down the other night and specifically list out and order my projects so that I could start to come to grips with them.  Simply realizing that I had to paint first before I did anything else was a big deal.  It gives me a place to start and a timeline: I want my dad to help me build my bed stand, and my parents are planning on coming down for a visit in May, so that means I have to get my apartment painted by the end of April.  Ok.

So that is where I am right now.  My plan for tomorrow is to go to the Sherwin Williams next door and pick out the colors I want to paint and bring them 'round for a final sign off from my landlord (if she approves my colors then she will reimburse me for the cost of the paint).  I'm also hoping to start the process of taping everything off tomorrow.  Possibly.  I might just get the colors finalized because baby steps help me not get overwhelmed and just give up.  If I can break the painting task up into micro tasks then hopefully I can actually accomplish it.  But I will say, it is nice to have actual projects that have actual value and discernable results.  One of the perpetual struggles of my life the last few months is an overwhelming sense of "what is even the point of this???"  But fixing up my apartment?  I can definitely see the point to that! 

So...yeah.  That's what is up.  Unfortunately, it's kind of impossible for my place to look clean and neat right now, so I don't really want to post any pictures yet.  Not till they can be the before of the "before and after" series.  But eventually, if you are interested, you shall have some.  
If you're not interested then I have to ask you why you're even here reading this post...?

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Therapy session: Residence Upheaval Edition

According to my therapist (cause I have one of those now) I need to work on forming connections with people that involve more trust so that I can go to those people when I'm having all the anxiety because that is how you're supposed to deal with anxiety.

I respectfully disagree with my therapist.

See, I agree that I don't really talk to people when I'm in the midst of an anxiety-induced meltdown.  But that is because there is no point.  I mean, sure, talking to people about issues is probably a good thing, but only if you're in a state to use their added perspective and insight.  And mid-panic?  I'm not in a state to do or use anything.  Hence, as I told ye olde therapist, I will talk to people before a freak out, and after a freak out, and even when there are no freakouts in sight fore or aft, but not during.  During I just lay facedown on the bedroom floor and breathe deeply.

But because there's no point going to see a therapist if you just dismiss what he tells you, I am writing this blog post as an initial foray into the sharing my feelings mid (or rather, on the tail end of) a major stress out.  That said, this is likely to be superlatively boring, so feel free to move along.

Today's stress is brought to you by the letter M, for Moving.

Tomorrow I sign a contract on a new apartment.  A faux studio apartment (technically there is a separate kitchen and bedroom/livingroom).

First, let us establish the advantages of this decision.  The apartment is very cool, located in a historic building, with oodles of personality.  And it would be mine exclusively.  I would, for the first time ever, have a home that belonged to no one besides me.  My own bathroom.  My own fridge.  My own sink with no dishes in it but the ones I put there.  And speaking of dishes, the only person to break or lose them would be me.  Indeed, there would be no one to break, ruin, or damage ANY of my stuff besides myself.  I literally cannot express to you how amazing that sounds...

But now for other side of things.

This place is small.  I mean, seriously tiny.  My current bedroom might very well be bigger than the main room.  And there is no other additional storage space.  When I try and think about condensing all of my stuff down into one very tiny room my brain just blanks out.  I have a few vague ideas but ultimately I'm not actually sure it will be possible.  And while I can probably get rid of a lot of stuff, there is a lot of stuff I can't get rid of.  Like the boxes of stuff from my grandma.  Like my books.  I don't know what I'll do...

The rent, while incredibly reasonable for a one-person place, is still a significant increase from what I'm paying now.  My disposable income is basically going to be decimated.  This includes my food budget.  I'm going to have to make a major adjustment in my lifestyle...though honestly that isn't necessarily a bad thing.  Just difficult.

The apartment will be available at the beginning of March, which means that I have less than a month to figure everything out and get all packed up and ready to go.  Which leads to to the final and most stressful of all the problems.  Thusfar, all my issues are things that ultimately I can figure out.  It might take some work, but I have the power to manage them.  The last problem is somewhat less under my control, and that is the problem of my current contract.  Just after I put in my application for the apartment I found out that my old roommate Callie was moving back to Provo through August and we both got really excited about her buying my contract.  But as it turns out, it probably will make a lot more sense for her not to buy it.  Which is awesome for her, but rather drops the floor out from under me.  I now have only 24 days to find someone to buy my contract and I am seriously stressed.

Everyone keeps telling me that it won't be a problem.  I'll be able to sell it so so easily.  But the fact is the one time I ever tried to sell a housing contract I ended up paying double rent for three or four months before I managed it.  I was fortunate to be able to manage it then, but there is literally no way I can do that this time.  And I have a lot less cushion before that becomes an issue this time, too.

In addition to all that general stress, I had the particular stress of trying to figure out how, by tomorrow, I was going to pay $360 of rent for my current place plus $450 of deposit for the new one, and I only had $273 in my checking account.  This problem swerved into a detour of hunting desperately for the checks I ordered last year that truly seem to have dissolved into their constituent atoms because I have literally searched every single place they could possibly exist.  Luckily, during my 2nd or 11th hour of searching, Blair informed me that I can go to the bank and pay them $1 per check to print them out for me right there.  I am not exaggerating when I say that this information brought tears to my eyes.  And with it, I am able to MacGyver my way through to Friday when, mercifully, I get paid.  Timing has not worked out for me this week...

And there you have it.  I am sharing my anxiety with others in the hope that doing so will somehow alleviate it.  And, score one for the therapist, I'll admit that on most of the points I do feel marginally better for laying them all out.  Selling my contract remains the aggressive gorrilla in the room, but the rest has diminished to conceivable proportions.

Or perhaps I've simply run out of energy to continue stressing tonight and will begin afresh tomorrow.  Only time will tell...