24 – Striving, Struggling, Scrambling Pt. 2

6/13/21

I didn’t expect there to be a part two to this story, but here we are.

Two weeks ago, I had an interview for a job that I really wanted. The interview went well, and as we parted, the interviewer gave me a homework assignment of sorts, one that required a decent bit of time.

And I gave it, I worked hard. I wrote a lot of words and tried to write them well, tried to find things to say that were sincere and impressive. Got a second interview. Went to the second interview, it also went well. I felt good about my authenticity and my professionalism, and it genuinely seemed like I was a good fit for the job. Then, as we parted, the interviewer gave an ambiguous platitude about when I would hear back. “We’ve had a lot of highly qualified applicants blah blah blah.”

And I knew in that moment that I hadn’t gotten it. I got in my car and sobbed the whole way home, spent the rest of the weekend trying to pick up the pieces. Yesterday afternoon, I got the rejection email. Broke again. Here I am today, trying to pick up the pieces.

The hard thing that I’m coming to terms with, the thing that I know to be true in my head but feels like poison to my heart, is that my effort will not always get me what I want. It’s an antithesis to the messaging of my parents’ generation – that if you work hard, if you pursue your dreams, your effort will be rewarded. 

No matter what, there has to be an end to striving, struggling, scrambling. No matter how well it has served you in the past. No matter if you know how to do anything else or not. 

In its place comes grief and late mornings and impulsive overnight trips to Birmingham and a hole in your heart that serves to remind you of your great need for others.

I struggled to write this newsletter because I’m still in the middle of all of these feelings, and I’m trying to make sense of it all. Trying to figure out where to go next. What to do. It’s ugly and messy, but it’s real. I don’t know.

I’m hoping that you’re well. That you’re making space for yourself. 

Lightly,
Leah