Man, 2020 was a real kick in the gut, wasn’t it? Especially for us folks who tend to feel things a bit more intensely, like the Pisces crew. Career-wise, it felt like walking through thick mud with a blindfold on. One day you thought you had a clear path, the next, everything just dissolved. I remember feeling this heavy sense of dread, like any plans I made would just get washed away.
I saw it around me too, this swirling uncertainty. People I knew, good people, just getting tossed around by the economic tides. Jobs they thought were solid, poof, gone. New opportunities? They were like mirages. For someone who thrives on a bit of creative flow and clear direction, 2020 was pure chaos. It messed with my head, made me second-guess everything I thought I knew about my own skills and worth. The usual drive just wasn’t there; it was replaced by this weary feeling, like I was constantly fighting upstream.
The Tipping Point and The Mess
So, how did I get through it? How did I even begin to untangle that mess? Well, it wasn’t some grand plan, believe me. I was deep in it myself. I remember it vividly. I was working on a project that I thought was my big break, something I’d poured my soul into for months. We were just weeks from launch, everything looked green. Then, one Tuesday morning, I woke up to an email – not even a phone call, mind you – saying the entire division was being “re-evaluated.” Translation: project on hold, team disbanded, everyone’s roles… well, let’s just say they got fuzzy real quick.
It hit me hard. Not just the job part, but the feeling of being completely unmoored. All that effort, all that passion, just… fizzled out. For days, I just sat there, staring at my screen, not really seeing anything. The motivation was gone, swallowed by this enormous wave of disappointment and self-doubt. My usual go-to, just diving into another creative pursuit, felt impossible. My energy was shot, and honestly, I was pretty angry. Angry at the situation, angry at myself for not seeing it coming, angry at the world for being so damn unpredictable.
My partner, bless her heart, tried to get me to “look at other options,” but I just couldn’t. It felt like trying to swim when all your limbs are tied up. I just wanted to hide under a blanket and hope the whole year would just magically rewind. But you can’t, can you? Life keeps moving, bills keep coming, and that heavy feeling just sits on your chest.
Shifting Gears, Inch by Hard-Won Inch
One evening, after another day of staring blankly at the wall, something just clicked. Not a big “aha!” moment, more like a tiny, stubborn flicker of defiance. I was tired of feeling like a victim. I started small. Really small.
- I grabbed a pen and paper. No fancy apps, just old-school. I wrote down everything I could control. My morning routine. What I ate. When I exercised. It sounds silly, but just seeing those little things listed out gave me a tiny bit of power back.
- I pulled out an old skill. Something I hadn’t touched professionally in years, but always loved doing. For me, it was sketching. Not for money, not for a portfolio, just for the sheer joy of putting lines on paper. It helped quiet the noise in my head.
- I reconnected, properly. Not just casual “how are you” messages, but real, honest conversations with a few trusted friends. I told them how I was truly feeling, the good, the bad, and the ugly. And just talking it out, hearing their stories of struggle too, made me feel less alone.
- I started learning something completely new and unrelated. Like, utterly out of left field. For me, it was basic woodworking. Just to use my hands, to create something tangible, something that couldn’t be “re-evaluated” by an email. The act of building, even something simple, was incredibly grounding.
- I looked at the “why.” Why did this specific job loss hit so hard? It wasn’t just the income; it was the identity, the creative outlet. I started to understand that my career wasn’t just about a paycheck; it was about meaning. And if one door closed, that meaning had to find another window.
Slowly, tiny step by tiny step, things started to shift. That creative spark, which had been buried under a mountain of disappointment, started to flicker again. I wasn’t suddenly swimming through crystal clear waters, but the mud felt a little less thick. I started seeing my skills differently, not just through the lens of that one failed project, but as a broader set of tools I possessed. I realized that my sensitivity, which often felt like a burden in a tough year, also made me deeply resilient and adaptable, capable of seeing solutions where others only saw problems. It wasn’t about finding a new grand plan overnight, but about rebuilding my own sense of purpose, one small, intentional action at a time.
