I was skyping my mum last saturday morning, standing in my kitchen making scrambled egg rolls, and I was having a moan. I tell her, with my throat tightening, that all I want is a bit of security, after an intense conversation about all the things that just weren’t happening for me.
And in reply to my heartfelt confession, in the context of a classic millennial groan. My mother, scoffed rather loudly, firing off that mum advice with a side of sass that comes from age and wisdom.
She started at me “having more money doesn’t give you that, having a better and more comfortable home doesn’t give you that. Not even love gives you that. You need to feel secure in yourself”. I thought about it for a moment, ready to argue back about how she was wrong, but she was completely right.
I had that feeling of complete solidarity with myself and my life once, it was a few years ago and its now a time I look fondly upon. Everything was going okay. I was doing well in university, I had moved store and I met some truly amazing people. I started going out and doing new things, I started pushing myself out of my comfort zone so much more than before. To make it even better I was in love too, and I was really truly okay – my blog posts from that time are testament to that.
I remained optimistic for such a long time and somewhere along the way amongst growing impatience, financial woes and graduation blues – I lost it.
I sunk into a mild depression that would come and go as it pleased. Like waves meeting the sandy anxiety that already protruded from me, both clinging on to my skin for dear life. It is hard to stay grounded when you feel like you are constantly being scrutinised, questioned and pushed to the point where you are no longer trying to come up for air.
I reminded myself that my mother too, had it hard at my age. Dear lord, she expereinced the 80’s, but at least it was a little easier to be younger then. A punk revolution helped them get through and probably a few drugs here and there I am sure – this being her version of events. For my generation, our grasp on ‘The sesh’ has firmly devolped as a generalised and okay thing to do continuously, and when and whereever possible. A space and time to ‘get oot our nut’ on varying degrees (mine getting drunk on rum or vodka – nothing extravagant).
We engage in conversations, nearly always a political conversation, a topical football palava that happened earlier that week that always manages to grace the shores of the early evening chat regardless of whether you support a team or not. And then comes the quiet and agreeable prescense later on, after a rowdy debate, that we are all a little fecked and the tory’s aren’t really our favourite.
Our revolution is essentially the same thing as my mum’s era, we are waking up and engaging. Expect we all wear Nike air max now and I certainly don’t have a mowhawk.
But she too is living in today, and if anyone would know better about the state of our society it is her opinion that really goes above for me. She never gives me this false idea that it will be always be fine. Because from experience, it isn’t. She has toed the poverty line and then been flung over many a time. But she is strong and she continues to pick herself back up. It’s a race to the next step for the both of us, a beginning for me and a new chapter for her – the circle of life.
Problem is, I have no bloody idea what my next step is. The stairs have eroded into a grisly mess and like many young graduates, we are all running and about like headless chickens. Looking for our feet. But our feet are off following our mothers and fathers with their idealistic optimism about the job market. So off we go, paying to live, working full-time in a profit-driven society to pay the “big guys” for the generous hard work and service they once put into a company many decades ago. The company they spent so much time building, is now struggling – another recession imminent. How will they cope?
They tend to reach out and take – reduce and cut the few benefits they give employees already on minimum wage. A guy I know, who works for such, has been working hard, doing different roles for 10 years – A decade of his life may I add, has had his benefits taken off him because the said company changed his contract without him realising the consequences. It was supposed to be a promotion and a pay rise. There was no warning, and also no pay rise it turned out, just the same pay for more responsibility and your benefits taken off you for wanting to give more of yourself to the company.
This happened last year and it is a true story. Let me tell you, I was bloody furious. I honestly feel like I have become a inside protester, I do my best to help people stick up for themselves when they are being wronged in my own work. Politics is clearly my calling.
Anyway, my mother was right in putting the truth to me. I need to be happy with myself, and stop relying on societys’ offerings to give me comfort. A good enough vision to have would you agree? To a point.
I can go through stages of being fine, but with every moral lapse in the political world, every benefit sanctioned, every company doing best for themselves and not their employees, it is bloody hard.
My emotional empathy is high and each time it goes into overdrive. I can’t cope as much as I used too because the truth is, I am no longer in my bubble. I am no longer working towards anything, succeeding or doing things for myself because I am working full-time and I have no money or time. I am very very sad within myself and its getting harder as time goes on.
I am aware of all that is wrong with my expectations, as though having these things would ‘make me better’. But its not about that, I just know fine well, that getting a good graduate job would means my mental state will get better because I would have my own purpose – a career. Not just that, but my financial problems will hopefully start being controlled better and I could start looking out for myself again. I remain hopeful that this day will come.
I don’t think it’s too wrong to want to be in a better position, a job where I can make a difference, so I can shake off this guilt that I should be doing something more for myself. I wish I had the time to volunteer to learn more about the community I live in, I wish I could intern as many days I could and do something real to me. I wish that the society I lived in wasn’t this harsh on young graduates coming out of student loan debt and straight into ridiculous overdrafts and ridiculously badly paid jobs.
I want to do more and I AM FRUSTRATED because I feel like I can’t do anything without rejection. I am sad because no matter how much I am trying it feels like I am going nowhere, and each time I send in an application I have this annoying glimmer of hope that at least one day it will be different and better. And I can do something, and give something back to those in the same position – even if it’s through my writing.