Greetings, friends!
First, a confession: I haven’t read the Moshfegh book referenced in my headline. (I haven’t read a lot of books, despite what my crowded bookshelves may suggest. Sit & Read is helping.) But its title, My Year of Rest and Relaxation, came to mind when trying to describe the last 12 months of rest… and rejection. My attempt to reinvent my career has floundered, my inbox woefully silent even as I send off countless job applications. The few companies that don’t outright ignore my applications decline them with generic, comfortless platitudes about an alleged sea of incredible candidates. My attempts to publish fiction have been similarly fruitless and impersonal. At least they’re more likely to respond!
All the while, my mental health is better than it’s been in years. I’ve almost entirely stopped biting my nails and wearing bald spots into my beard with nervous, grabby fingers. I don’t obsess and ruminate in hours-long anxious spirals—or at least, less frequently than…