I’ve said it before, unemployment is like being marooned on a desert island. The days are long.

I’ve taken to lighting candles so I can see evidence of time passing by the candle wax level lowering.

When my daughter was a newborn, time passed slowly too. I began counting each feeding as its own day—making each 24 hour day with a feeding every three hours equivalent to 8 days.

Staring into the unfocussed eyes of my newborn, I looked for a sign that I was a person. Yes, I was sleep deprived, injured and post-partum insane. And I was sure I didn’t matter at all to this new baby. Any  person—even a machine–could have done what I was doing. These were not difficult or personalized.

She couldn’t tell who I was. I was not significant or distinctive.

I didn’t matter.

As I say that, I know it is not true.

You, my reader, recognize the absurdity.

“Of course you matter!”

As mother of a newborn then

and now as a long and even longer suffering jobseeker, I am ensnared by this favorite folly

This conviction that no one notices me, that my best hope is to be ignored so that I can keep my seat at the table. As long as I don’t draw attention I won’t be asked to leave.

A month or so in I was playing with her and talking to my tiny baby, she smiled

AT ME

For the first time I felt connected to her. I was recognized.

Achilles had his heel; I have my weak spot that throbs. I’ve learned many people have a wound like this, that I return to again and again.

Last week, after my most recent job rejection, I attended an expo. Feeling isolated, insignificant and worse,  I found a friend and scraped together a set elevator speech as I prepared to ask for a job.

I’d been working on a book for my industry, The AV Project Manager Handbook. I brought a pre- publication proof as a conversation starter.

At the event, I met person after person that I’d known for years. Seemed that I personally knew half the attendees at the event. Then the people who I didn’t know yet saw my book and were thrilled to meet me and learn about this useful book.

I’d fallen for my old trap, believing that I’m nothing.

I may not have a job or a position YET, but it’s coming. Things take time to grow. That’s a certain text.

I’m not proud to say I’ve felt this way, but telling the story of my shame let’s a little sunlight in. And if anyone else sees their own folly as I share mine, perhaps we both can lift ourselves inot the light.