But on the 4th January I reached the point of being already so overwhelmed and exhausted that I broke. And then I picked myself up and went and sorted things out in my chair of the board role, and then I came home and got on with work while crying a bit more at my laptop. Because what else do you do right?
But we should also talk about it. Because I'm not alone in arts or academia (and I'm going to keep saying I belong in both, despite being told otherwise). We're all struggling against everyone thinking their thing should be our priority, no matter what our own is. We're all trying to juggle all the unpaid stuff with our real jobs. Or in far, far too many of our cases, juggling the unpaid stuff against never having a secure or liveable income. Against constant job hunting, or seemingly endless unemployment or under employment. So I'm using this blog to tell my version of this because I know I'm not the only one going into January feeling like this.
It's just hard sometimes. All the time at the moment in fact. And at the moment I'm barely functioning under a load of, well too much.
- My book. Due at the end of January. That's been pushed back for everything, and every man and his dog over the past year. For which I'm going to have to beg another extension, and I am terrified that will mean it gets taken off me. And I think if it does that might be the thing that finishes me.
- A chapter of a book. End of the month. Haven't written a word.
- A final draft of a play. Like yesterday.
- Scenes for a book of a musical. And a composer for it. (the latter isn't my whole job or my fault but it's another thing).
- Picking up the commissioned play. Start of Feb. This is luckily the one thing I might have wiggle room on luckily.
None of these things are easy. None of these things are quick. And I'm bloody sick of the idea that writing shouldn't take priorty. That somehow it just magically happens. I don't pull this shit out of my arse (ok well I do but it takes time). And my book is a fucking real thing. With a contract and publishers and deadlines. I swear people think I'm pulling a Rocky Flintstone and just writing porn in my shed or something (niche reference, I see you perverts)
On top of that I'm juggling paid work, currently a mix of a couple of 'employed' days and freelancing. None of which is enough to live on properly. I've been job hunting for 14 months. I've been officially shittly unemployed/underemployed (it's a term) for a year now.
And I am fucking exhausted.
Not least because job hunting is exhausting in itself. But that job hunting on top of working in whatever means possible to keep a head above water, on top of doing all the above to try and pursue the 'real' career has finished me.
And on top of that are people. Glorious people. The kinds of people who have fallen on their feet at a young age and just don't understand how at 34 I can be so damn useless to be unemployed for so long. I don't resent anyone their employment, I don't wish what I and many others I know have gone through but lord if some empathy were possible that would be swell. Some understanding of the toll it takes on a person, the constant stress, the uncertainty of not being able to plan beyond a few months times (if that) and yes the lack of financial freedom.
So I start January this year exhausted. Partly in the literal short term sense. Christmas wasn't really a thing this year. A combination of a retail based job and all the above, meant Christmas Day and New Year's day were all I had off (the latter simply because I couldn't get myself going and felt horribly guilty all day). And there's no let up. There's no weekends or days off there's just going out to paid work, or working at home on 'real work'. And I'm not complaining at having so much 'real work' to do, but that doesn't mean it isn't exhausting. Especially when I'm now at a point of 'finish these because you started, then get a real job'
Because none of this is sustainable. Not without a partner to support, or family money. That's the real truth of it.
And then what?
Who knows. I've learned to live without a plan. Because it's too hard having it not work out yet again.
But I write this, partly to get out some of the frustration, the anger and yes the tears. But also because I know I'm not alone. If you're heading into January not feeling like it's a 'fresh start' but more like you're already buried under the weight of the year or already despairing that it's going to be no better than the last endless chasing disappointments. And if you're already sick of everyone saying how great 2019 is for them, and for you if you just think positive. Then this blog is for you. For all of us.
It probably won't be brilliant. But we'll survive it. Whatever you're drowning under, whatever January is already throwing at you. You got this.
I'm on twitter, my DM's are always open for anyone who needs an ear (or just enjoys my occasional drunk tweeting) @emigarside
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