I graduated with a master’s degree 4 years ago. I was working in December 2016, writing my thesis and I had already been looking for a ‘real job’ for many, many months – almost a year. I had been doing little odd jobs on the side trying to make ends meet; a few weeks here, a month of full-time work (while ignoring my thesis) there and all in all, it had been a horribly stressful time in my life. I never had enough money to pay my bills. I ended up with more debt because some months I had to borrow money since I didn’t have an income at all.
I foolishly assumed that once I had graduated then everything would sort itself out. It had been difficult to get to this part, but now all those years of hard work would finally be worth it.
I would find a job. Sure, it might not be my dream job, but it would be a job and an income. Finally, I would get to pay off my debt and start paying my bills on time. I would start paying off my student loans and one day, I’d even start saving up and get my own place again.
That’s right. That was my dream. A home of my own, a kitchen and bathroom and a living room/bedroom. Maybe, if I was really lucky, I might even get a small garden and grow a few herbs.
I was imagining a life. I never needed riches or fame or anything like that. I didn’t even need a bedroom. All I wanted was a small space to call my own and the opportunity to pay off my student loans and my debt – it was all I wanted to do.
Debt is a very stressful thing and I wanted to get rid of it for good.
Admittedly, somewhere deep in the corner of my heart there was a dream of friends and family, of a loving partner and children playing outside. I dreamt of meeting people who could accept me as I am, who would try to understand me and could appreciate my strengths and not just point out my weaknesses.
One day, I’ll meet people and they will become true friends and we can hang out and it won’t be painful, just relaxing. One day, someone will care about me. One day, someone might even love me. One day, I might even let myself love someone too.
I had these silly dreams of a different life, hopes of a future and all these hopes were based on earning money and paying bills and debt – of becoming free of that debt.
There are many reasons I struggle with debt today, but it was never because I wanted to buy fancy clothes or cars. I guess, maybe I shouldn’t have studied abroad or maybe I should have stayed living at home. Maybe I should have fought harder to keep my jobs, but I was always getting fired or quitting because I couldn’t handle the pressure. I shouldn’t have moved in with a friend when I did, because I couldn’t live with other people.
I should have done many things differently, perhaps. In the end, everything I did was because of my degree. I wanted to finish it.
I thought my degree would save me in the end. I’ve been told by everyone in school, by friends and family (all except my mother, that is. Guess I should have listened to her. Lol.) that getting a degree means securing our future.
A degree is supposed to be like a safety net, so why is it that the only thing that ever came from finishing my degree is unemployment and debt?
Not from studying, because obviously so much more came from studying. I am the person I am today because of all those years I fought to get here, because of my wonderful and magical years living in Japan and because of the people I met during those years – both the good and the bad. I would never be me if it wasn’t for all those years.
My point is not that I regret going to university, instead what I would have wanted to change was my approach to studying and getting a university degree.
You see, I studied for so many years and people build so much of their identity on what they do, that very naturally my degree became a part of how I see myself. It became a part of my identity. I saw it happen with many others, it doesn’t matter if we are neurotypical or atypical. What we do, our job, can be terribly difficult to separate from who we really are.
When I didn’t get a job right after graduation, I was sad, of course, but still hopeful. After a year, less hopeful. In fact, I had a small break because I was forced to take an internship that I couldn’t handle because of the challenges that comes with autism. I was desperate and forced into a corner and it broke me.
After another year I started getting better. Then things got worse again and now, I am finally getting better for real. It’s been 4 years now and my life is nothing like what I had hoped or dreamed. In fact, it is everything I never thought it would be.
You know what I realised was happening a long time ago? I was starting to think of unemployment as my identity. I believe that I am useless and unskilled, that I have little value to society, that my entire life was wasted. I believe in it because of these last 4 years.
Some people I know talk about how lucky I am. I get to sleep in, not worry about work or deadlines, I get to play video games all day if that is what I want – I can even get my mother to do my laundry. They talk like I am living the dream, but in reality, they don’t understand how much like hell this kind of life is.
Not because what I do is bad, but because every moment of my life is a constant reminder that I failed again. I am always constantly aware that every day I failed again.
It feels like my entire identity is rejected every day because my degree has somehow melted together with my personality – it is all am, somehow.
Every day the past 4 years have been filled with rejection. You think I didn’t apply for jobs? I did. I sent out so many applications, I have literally lost count years ago. I have sent out thousands of applications to every possible job – even jobs I would hate. I kept thinking that once I get a job I can always look for a better job.
At first, like the first couple of months that is, I was hopeful. I applied for cool jobs, dream jobs and all the jobs I wanted. Then, I started looking for things I would be okay with and over time I ended up completely loosing sight of what I wanted.
I no longer remember what I wanted. I don’t remember my dream jobs anymore. What was it that I originally wanted to do? Why did I study? I don’t know.
This spring a caseworker asked me what I want to do and I broke down crying. I cried for days because I had no idea. I couldn’t even imagine a career, a job or a single thing that would make me happy. All I could focus on was paying my bills, making sure I could make it through the next month.
I have socks and shirts and such things, all filled with holes and stitches from being mended. I don’t have a bed, but I stacked some old mattresses and cushions on top of each other. Why? Because the little money I had I used to buy things that people can see, so that should I get a job interview they would get a nice and proper first impression.
I didn’t have money to buy what I needed, so I bought what people could see. My life was again a fake pretence, because I thought that was the only way for me to survive. I know people say money doesn’t make you happy, but honestly, when you struggle through on a daily or monthly basis it’s the most important thing in your life.
Unemployment didn’t just make me lose my dreams or hopes, it’s far worse than that. Unemployment took away my ability to dream at all.
When I was young, I would imagine my life in many different ways – often impossible ways. I was a renowned archaeologist at a dig in some hot, desert one day and the next, I was an explorer in space. When I became a teenager, my dreams became more realistic because I realised that it wasn’t possible to be an archaeologist space explorer.
I dreamt of becoming a writer as well. I remember clearly that I walked past a bookshop in London once and imagined my name written on the cover of some of the beautiful, hard-cover books in the windows.
I was recently accepted by a culinary school in Copenhagen and classes begin in January 2020 – exactly 4 years after I graduated.
Now, I am very happy and relieved, but I can’t imagine it – I can’t dream or hope, because by habit my brains shuts me down.
I love uniforms and I am terribly excited to wear my white uniform in the kitchen, but I can’t imagine it. My brain shuts me down before I even buy the outfit. I know I’ll find the money to buy it, I know nothing can mess this up now – not even me. And yet, I cannot see it. I cannot hope. I cannot dream.
When I try to imagine my life 10 years from now, I feel like crying. 5 years, 2 years, 6 months, a few weeks? It makes no difference. I can’t even begin to imagine what life will look like, because I literally don’t remember how to hope and dream about the future.
I spent most of my adult life studying at university, I fought so hard to get here and now I’m leaving all that behind for a future I can’t even imagine – not even just a few weeks from now.
Oddly enough, I can’t even imagine gaining new skills. I started playing guitar a few months ago, and even though I fell completely in love with the guitar, I can’t imagine I’ll ever get any good. I am trying to learn a new language, and yet I can’t imagine I’ll ever really learn it.
I can’t even imagine myself as a blogger AND I AM A BLOGGER. I have been a blogger for 2 years and I can’t imagine it.
I didn’t realise I had lost my ability to imagine or hope and I don’t understand how I didn’t notice. I have not been sad, but very happy these last couple of months. Living in the present moment and finding joy in the little things.
The problem is that it’s not enough. I need a purpose, a future to aim for. Sure, it might not be where I end up, but I need some sort of hope for the future – my future. It’s not about getting exactly what I want, but I want a feeling of value and purpose.
Day after day I was faced with rejection after rejection, challenge after challenge and with each day I came to accept it as my reality more and more.
People at unemployment offices don’t behave like they want to help you, they behave like you are a lazy bum with no real potential and when people treat us this way, is it any wonder that after years and years of indoctrination we start to believe it too?
