No, I’m not talking about that stupid party dance where you try to contort your body to fit under a stick, although the limbo I’m referring to feels the same.
lim•bo(n): an uncertain period of awaiting a decision or resolution
As many of you may know, about a month and a half ago, I moved to New York City with some of my best friends. I’m happy to report that it’s gone remarkably smooth. We survived an Airbnb basement that not only lacked windows, had two beds for three adult women and 6’2″ ceilings, but was also haunted (yet to be confirmed). We survived moving via Uber. Our parents (God bless them) brought us our furniture and knickknacks after living like squatters in our new apartment. And we’ve survived our first three weeks as official residents of Brooklyn. All in all, things have gone well.
Now here’s where the limbo part comes into play. If you follow my Twitter at all, I’m sure you’ve encountered one of my many whiny, GIF-ridden posts about unemployment. I like to make light of the situation, but here’s the deal. I’m going insane.
While I understand that the average amount of time between graduation and employment is six months, I was really hoping it wouldn’t apply to me. But thus far, it’s exactly the case.
I knew moving to New York City cold turkey wasn’t going to be easy. I left everything I’ve ever known 1,206 miles away. I left my family (all of which live within an hour of my childhood home). I left my best friends in the entire world. I left the hills and trees of southern Missouri and traded them for towering buildings and smelly subway rides. I traded the archery range in my backyard for high* neighbors shooting compound bows on my roof.
But the thing is, everything feels right. While, as of today, I’ve applied for 98 jobs and haven’t secured anything, I can’t help but feel as if something great is coming. I may end up working somewhere I’m less than thrilled about for a while, but nothing is permanent. (Figure of speech, y’all. Don’t start listing permanent things in the comments.)
So here we go. As a new month begins, I drop $900 on rent and utilities, and I remain unemployed, I ask that you pray for me. Send good thoughts if you’re the type. Or just like, puppy videos. Those work too.
Thanks for all the love and support you’ve given me as I transition into this new and exciting part of my life. I’ll keep you updated as I go.
P.S. I’m no longer single. I am, in fact, engaged to an Irish gentleman I met at a bar called Boobie trap. But that’s for another time.
*Confirmed smoking marijuana. Not just high due to the distance from the ground to the roof.
Single Girl Diaries 