I am not a trust-no-one, assume-all-risk-yourself DIY’er. I believe in the social safety net. I have lobbied to expand the social safety net.

Never once did I think I would be the one to need the social safety net. That was before I got hog-tied by the pink slip goat rodeo and there I was, applying for unemployment in the COVID storm along with 40 million-and-counting other people.

Filling out the application alone – admitting yeah, hey, I could use some help here – gobsmacked my confidence. Somewhere in my head, and I suspect in many people’s heads, is a cold little sliver of mislogic that equates “I am unemployed” with “I am unworthy”.

But tripping off down that rabbit hole only tanked my confidence further, which only impeded my ability to get a job further, which further tanked my confidence, which kept spiraling downward until I was convinced that I’d hopelessly screwed up everything and would end up squatting in my in-laws’ basement. I managed to think this even while knowing that I hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Like millions of other people, I was in this boat because my former employer profit-panicked and cut half of us amid the COVID crisis. By my former boss’ admission my work was “outstanding”. You can be “outstanding” and find yourself in the unemployment line. You can be just about anything or anyone and find yourself in the unemployment line.

Getting another job, staying something resembling mentally healthy and functioning day to day required me to derail the “I am unworthy” express before it rolled right over my wounded heart each day. And I needed my wounded heart intact to get through each day. Because pulling off the balancing act of parenting, all-around adulting and job hunting while being unemployed during a global pandemic amounted to a daily slough.

I dropped my gym membership and took long walks around the neighborhood. I cancelled Hello Fresh and cooked every night. I joined unemployment Facebook groups and shared resources and encouragement. I was touched by so many people, friends and acquaintances who sent me job leads, checked in to see how I was doing, made us food and watched my child. I was hurt by a few people, including the once-good friend who refused to take a copy of my resume and the powerful acquaintance who volunteered to brainstorm ideas but then never responded to my emails. 

This is the survival tale of a privileged person. I was one of the lucky unemployed. The so, so very lucky unemployed. 

Because we own our home.

Because we had some savings.

Because my husband had a job, albeit a part time one.

Because my claim was approved quickly, and the benefits showed up in my bank account within weeks. 

Because I have a bachelor’s, a master’s and a good solid history of experience and contacts and references that helped make me a viable candidate for good jobs.

Because if things got really dicey, we have relatives that were able and willing to help out.

Because I am white, and for a long time, financial stability has been far easier for white people to come by than for people of color. I am not saying that many white folks do not work hard. I am saying that as a group, we have more privilege, opportunities, and financial rewards than equally hardworking and talented folks of color. 

I had all that. A staggering list of support and advantages. And yet. Fear, anger and desperation never stopped bubbling inside me. Most days, I kept them subdued enough to stay on top of my adult responsibilities, adhering to the to-do lists I made for myself each week. Some days, my dark emotions knocked me down and dragged me under. More than once, they threatened to keep me under for good. 

The $365 I drew each week, the maximum in my state’s unemployment benefits, was not enough to keep us afloat on its own. In the financial sense, the $600 short-term federal benefit was our life raft. In the emotional sense, the people in my life and a burgeoning sense of resiliency kept me going. 

I didn’t do perfectly. Lots of days, I stumbled. But there was always someone nearby to reach out a hand if I needed help getting back up. Sometimes I didn’t. Lots of times I did. 

And at the end of the summer, a miracle happened. I got a job. A job I really, really want and am so very excited to have. 

Once again, I am lucky. I am so very lucky. And in the middle of this pandemic, many, many of my fellow unemployed folks are still waiting for their luck to come. I suspect that many more people will find themselves on the unemployment rolls before this is all over. 

If you are unemployed? Believe in you and do what you need to do to make it through. I suggest this Facebook group.

If you are employed? Support people who are not. Know that the line between you and them is not nearly so thick or secure as many on the employed side would like to believe. Someone to listen, someone to cook dinner, offer to watch the kids for a few hours or share our resume is invaluable and so very appreciated.

And everyone? Support the expansion of the safety net in this country. As I write this, the $600 federal unemployment benefits expired months ago, and the number of available jobs is a fraction of the number of people on unemployment. The reality is, no matter how hard we work, very, very few of us would be able to solo our way through a job loss that’s more than a few months long. And in the middle of a pandemic, almost every job loss is at least a few months long.

You don’t know how tenuous the safety net is until you feel the holes with your own body. 

Photo credits: Line by Wendybkoon, hole by Skitterphoto, clover by artistlike, underwater by Engin Akyurt, burning bush by andreas160578. All photos from Pixabay.