Dear Other Dad,
I am a 2021 College graduate, still paying off my college debt, and unable to find employment, other than gigs without health insurance amidst this pandemic. I don’t see a future for myself nor for my peers. What if nothing changes? How can I still choose joy?
Adrift
It must be hard wrestling with so much uncertainty and worry, Adrift, which is the opposite of the hopefulness and excitement that one associates with graduation from college. The pandemic has thrown your class and the class of 2020 into the same constrained job pool, a context that makes the lack of benefits-ready work feel even more scary. You have every right to feel blue.
While your present anxiety is understandable, a pessimistic long-range view is pointless. How does it benefit you to decide now that nothing will be good later?
The actor Michael J. Fox, who was diagnosed with Parkison’s at age 29, sums up the way one’s mindset can affect outcomes: “Don’t spend a lot of time imagining the worst-case scenario. It rarely goes down as you imagine it will, and if by some fluke it does, you will have lived it twice.” Fox’s medical condition led to his retirement from acting in 1998; at that point, he could never have imagined that he would not only return to acting but have recurring roles on five prime time series over the next 20 years or that he would author four books, most recently in 2020.
My own experience tells me Fox is right. In 2016, my marriage ended. I was suddenly forced to adapt to life as a single dad working multiple jobs and scraping by. In short succession, I injured my achilles and then my knee, which led knee surgery followed by weight gain (which has been a lifelong struggle). There were months that year in which every day felt like a slog toward a horizon that wasn’t especially bright. 5 years later I am healthier physically and emotionally, it is easier to keep up with the bills, and many doors have opened for me as a writer that were never open before. I am grateful for a life I once couldn’t even picture.
Still, I know being reminded of the possibility of a better future doesn’t always feel like comfort in the moment. I remember how many people in my rough year exhorted me to trust that everything would be fine and reminded me that things could be worse. I knew both sentiments were true, but neither felt very helpful. What actually got me through that time were two things: friends to lean on and concrete plans to move in the direction of what I wanted or needed.
Let’s start there. Don’t be shy about leaning on those who you trust to keep you emotionally/spiritually nourished. Keep closest those who are good at the nonjudgmental “I hear you”; it’s important to be able to speak your fears plainly without immediately being invalidated by someone who needs you to cheer up so that they will feel better. At the same time, don’t make all your conversations with these friends about you and your worries; engage with the the rest of life. And definitely resist the urge to compare whether anyone else is having the same struggles you are. Focus your time with your friends or loved ones on doing things you enjoy together and let their presence lift you even when your circumstances feel limited.
Big picture, use this time to think about what else could move you forward. Are there experiences, relationships, opportunities, or connections that could give you some kind of proximity to the career you want? Is there a volunteer role that would put you in the world that interests you and broaden your experience, even if unpaid? Are there people who could be mentors or allies in your field? Can you find ways to deepen or enrich your knowledge base outside of either school or a job, so that when an opportunity does arise, your skills will be fresh and/or you’ll have new ones to offer? The groundwork you lay now may pay off when you least expect.
I have applied for so many things — jobs, grants, publications, productions — that never worked out, yet my life has been full of opportunities that came about unexpectedly as a result: people who seemingly rejected my work waiting for the right moment to hire me; people I’d never submitted to who got my work from a third party, unbeknownst to me; and others who stumbled onto my work in completely unpredictable ways. None of these advances (some years in the making) would have been possible if I hadn’t continued to send out my work, despite each rejection.
What I’m trying to say here is that it may take you a long while to find real momentum, but you have to keep leaning forward until it happens. Along the way, you may have to make peace with the gig economy, which can mean working a job you didn’t train for and which may not have great benefits. I did temp work to help supplement my lousy adjunct lecturer pay for almost a decade before I could afford to only teach; even then, I needed to supplement the first teaching gig with a second that offered a better package.
If you’re stuck without healthcare (one of America’s great shames), check out your federal options, like the insurance offerings of the Affordable Care Act and Medicaid, or explore your state’s individual low-cost plans for the uninsured.
In the meantime, the answer to your last question — how do you choose joy? — is in the question itself: you choose it. Accept that you cannot control the future, only the moment you are in, and then foster things that will create and maintain joy. Carve out time for the activities that make you happy. I make time for meals, walks, or calls with friends. I seek out new music. I exercise. And I write, not just for my work, but for true pleasure. You won’t regret finding ways to foreground things that improve your mental state.
My biggest suggestion is this: Feed joy now. Don’t make it dependent on an unknown future. Seize the day, not as a way of forgetting about the future, but to keep you healthy and whole on the way to it.
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Previously Published on Medium
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Photo: iStock
