My mental health is being impacted by my job search

Since I've been in my current employment for two years, I can hardly say that I'm enjoying myself. No of how much better their situation may be than that of the next person, I think everyone who works has the right to voice their dissatisfaction with their employment. I'd steer clear of you if you're not one of those folks.

I am employed by a mental hospital for kids and teenagers that is, all in all, incredibly decrepit and mismanaged. The fact that I incurred debt to obtain a psychology degree in order to essentially babysit mentally ill children gnaws at me almost every day. If I knew then what I know now, I could go on a tirade, but I won't.

We have insufficient funding, personnel, and appreciation. The children's pod is where I spend the majority of my 12 shifts since they're louder and the other staff members won't go over there. Up to 10 kids, ranging in age from 4 to 12, are mixed together, and they have a wide range of diagnoses and behavioral problems. Most of them lack social skills and, when unhappy or unable to articulate their demands, may fight and damage property. It becomes stressful, and it's easy to burn out when management is more concerned with the color of the walls or punishing workers for being even a minute late than with the mental wellness of their staff. Yesterday at work, I sobbed because the patient I was supposed to watch was placed under even closer supervision even though he had done nothing to merit it. The fact that I discovered three of my coworkers had submitted their two-week notice didn't help either. One of the three staff employees that began work in 2019 is myself. The others had to go as quickly as possible. Although I have no idea what they're doing and don't want to make any assumptions, I can't help but believe they're doing much better. No one has ever seemed to regret leaving, in my opinion.

I've reached a point where I don't want to vent to anyone about my difficulties at work. not even my counselor. "Well, have you tried applying for other jobs?" is the only response I ever receive. My hair is on its way out. No, I hadn't given application a consideration. I only imagined that I would be picked up off the street and given a job. Obviously, I have. I must have spent countless hours filling out applications and attending interviews for tens of thousands of jobs. I just can't get a job there. To disclose that I've been turned down for every job I've applied for in the last 15 months is beyond embarrassing. I place the blame on a capitalist culture and the way that the sense of identity of the typical American adult is inextricably linked to employability.

I began looking for a job in February 2020 because I only intended to hold my current position for a year. I was really innocent at the time. After a month, the pandemic broke out, and businesses either stopped hiring or started laying off workers. My mother said I ought to have been more appreciative for having steady job during such "uncertain times". Not me. When employee after employee tested positive for Covid-19, we continued to be under stringent quarantine conditions for months at a time. Then, in late December, there came the patient breakout. Despite several occasions of direct exposure, I somehow managed to stay healthy. Although I am appreciative of it, I had experienced so many panic attacks and breakdowns that getting vaccinated didn't really reduce my anxiety. I ultimately grew jaded and quit making job applications altogether. Now the agitation has returned.

It's not like I'm applying for positions for which I'm not qualified. I meet both the educational and experience criteria. To give myself a better chance, I have occasionally applied for positions for which I am overqualified. I look up interview advice. I ask my sister to review my résumé so I can sound more impressive on paper. Everything has failed. Mom advises me to pray. I feel as though I am at my wits' end. My coworkers are leaving. Months follow weeks, then days. I feel as though I've reached a dead end, which has brought on a raging existential crisis. I've spent hours wondering where I fit in this world, what I'm really supposed to do, whether this is it for me, if I need to take out more debts to re-enroll in school, if I even want to use my psychology degree, or if I should pursue a whole other career path. I have no answers. I am more melancholy as I think more. When I have to get up to go to work, I find it difficult. I get annoyed for the most of the day. I become angry with folks who aren't even involved in the situation. I have trouble getting motivated. All because I felt unemployed and consequently useless as a result of the rejections I faced with during the job search process.

Although I am aware of how risky it is to equate my self-worth with my seeming employability, there is still plenty to unlearn. More often than most people are ready to accept, one's employment and money are intimately related to their mental health. Many people experience emptiness when they are unable to maintain a specific quality of living. Even those who are more assured may question what went wrong if they don't ace the interview. Many people lack healthy outlets because they are living paycheck to paycheck and lack the money to make even one "unnecessary" purchase. Being only one emergency away from being out of money is tremendously stressful. It's enough to make you want to terminate your life to have to work yourself to a bloody pulp to acquire overtime to pay for essentials. And despite my best efforts to convince myself otherwise, this is indeed real life.

What then can we do? We experience it daily. We discover silly little things that give us even the tiniest flutter of happiness. Sometimes, escape helps us cope. We produce. We give our pals a call. We weep. We also weep. We also weep. But we continue on. We must continue on.