r/Layoffs • u/Interesting_Pop_485 • 11h ago
unemployment 1,064 days of unemployment. We're losing the house next week.
EDIT: To clarify, I haven’t literally been unemployed for 3 years straight. I’ve managed to land a few contracts, oddball gigs, manual labor, whatever i can find. I consider them all gig-work, seeing as they’re not consistent W-2 employment.
I started a coding bootcamp when I was 21, in 2021.
It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Ten months of feeling like I was being waterboarded with information, and ways of thinking I had never done before - wondering if I'd just thrown away my savings for nothing. But it worked. I landed a software engineering job making more money than I'd ever thought possible just six months after graduating. I got a raise. I moved into my own apartment. I started buying furniture instead of whatever I could find on street corners labeled "free". I stopped feeling like I was surviving and started feeling like I was actually building a life.
Then I found this house!
It wasn't some huge mansion. It was just... mine. A garage, a finished basement, a space for my hobbies. A place I could picture proposing to my girlfriend, marrying her, and starting our life together.
I moved in!
And got laid off two weeks later.
We got married anyway, just with me unemployed.
For the last three years, I've treated finding another job like it was my full time job. I wasn't casually sending out a few generic applications a couple times a week. I've spent almost every single day applying, networking, tailoring resumes, building side projects, learning new skills, reaching out to recruiters, interviewing (whenever I could get one), trying to stay relevant. The literal only day I didn't job hunt was our wedding day.
Three years.
I failed.
Next week we're moving out of this house because we literally can't afford food. I have two cavities, and my wife and I are having "welp, I guess this is it" chest pains. I rarely sleep.
The part that's genuinely almost funny (in the cruelest possible way) is that we're moving into my wife's old complex. One door down from where she used to live.
It feels like life realized I was actually starting to get somewhere, and promptly grabbed me by the collar and just kept swinging. Layoff. Final-round rejections. Contracts that stopped paying. Savings evaporating. Watching the future we'd planned slowly get traded and sold piece by piece to pay rent. The house is what hurts the most.
I'm not mourning the square footage. I'm mourning what the house represented. It was the first place that felt like the beginning of my adult life. It was where I was supposed to build things. Where I actually had space for woodworking, leather crafting, my darkroom, It's where I imagined the next decade happening. Instead, I'm packing what will fit into boxes. The rest goes to facebook marketplace.
I keep thinking about the version of me that signed the lease. That thought he'd finally made it. He had no idea almost everything he'd spent years building was about to disappear.
I'm going on 28. I'm tired of starting over. I want kids. I want to be able to afford to go to the doctor. I want to be able to buy toothpaste without feeling guilty. I want to rest with my wife.
I feel like I've been at the end of my rope for literal years. But the rope is just one of those clown-handkerchief routines where it just... keeps going. I'm genuinely getting tired of waking up.