I wrote this at my ultimate low point last night while in bed. I’ve spent all morning catching up to emails, Facebook messages, Tweets, and phone calls from people who want to help. You’re all truly amazing, and believe me, I’ll remember your name when the favour needs to be returned.

I was handed my freedom yesterday.

The last two years of my life have been amazing. Life-changing. Growth.

Truth is, I’ve been miserable. Absolutely miserable. This occurred to me last week when I came home from work after an absolute shit day. I cut my finger on a tin can, wrapped my bleeding digit in a paper towel, tried to compose myself. Then I sat at the table crying into my bowl of rice in front of my roommate and his girlfriend because I felt like a failure. Such a failure.

I’ve been struggling through tech writing for two years. When I got hired fresh out of university, I was ecstatic. Was so proud to say I had a BA in English and a FULL-TIME CAREER. Mind-blowing. I loved introducing myself to people as a tech-writer. But I never got better at my job.

I loved my co-workers. Loved my office. Loved my environment. Hated my job. I’d sit down at my desk, spread open a binder of user manuals or guides and stare at meaningless words on a paper that talked about wiring and batteries and electronics. I liked the technical aspect of the language, and I honestly tried my hardest, but I’m no engineer.

Then I found myself setting up insanely rigid routines. I wrote this in a document labelled “thoughts” a few months ago after the monotony was forcing me to lose my mind:

I get up at 8 a.m. I jump out of bed, eyes puffy, and I pee. At 8:04 I return to my bedroom, dig through my closet of over-worn clothes and pull a checkered sweater from a hanger. Pants, socks. Ankle socks because I want to go to the gym. Underwear practical for exercise.

I eat cereal, turn on the ABC World News and watch something going on in the USA. I hate the newscasters. I put my dishes in the dishwasher, head back upstairs to do my make-up and hair. It takes about 20 minutes, I’m out the door by 8:50, lugging my crumbling gym bag down the road and to my office. I choose to take the stairs today. The elevator is scary.

Turn on the computer. Say hi to a coworker. Sigh, fill up a glass of water, panting. The rest of the day I’m watching the clock. Watching the hours slide by. Tick, tick, tick. I prolong lunch so the afternoon seems quicker. I don’t have the energy to leave my desk. I’m there for 8 hours, in my leather chair.

I thought about quitting for awhile. I’ve applied to jobs, searched the Internet. I stayed with my company because I felt I owed it to them, for giving me the opportunity to work there to begin with. I was absolutely petrified of creating a rift between my coworkers and I, people I adore dearly, especially the lead technical writer who became a very close friend. I know they all read this blog now.

But that’s the thing, it’s the corporate world. Companies and businesses and organizations look out for themselves. I tried explaining this to my parents who felt, “Gee, they hired you, you should give them EVERYTHING. You have JOB SECURITY.” Job security is a myth. The best advice I’ve ever received was from my friend Katie: you only have allegiance to yourself.

I have never felt so alone in my life. So lost. My job my was my identity, and this is why it’s a big deal to me. I don’t date anybody, I don’t have a lot of money. My job was my one thing I could boast about. I gathered my things yesterday, and it wasn’t until I was behind the door I started crying. And crying and crying. Matt made me breakfast, I cried. People called, I cried. People texted, I cried. All day I’ve been ranging in emotions from I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M FREE to holy shit, I’m lost.

The one thing I’ve realized after Tweeting and sending out emails about my predicament is that my friends, followers and colleagues are absolutely amazing. I actually can’t even keep up with the responses, but believe me when I say you’ve all pulled me through a very rough night. It’s overwhelming, and I love you for it.

Now what?

How do you move on with debt?

How do you move on with no savings?

How do you move on?