When your brain isn’t just letting up

Lately, I’ve been stumbling onto shows that circle around unemployment. Even before these, I had picked up a book -Let Me Call You Back by Jackson Biko – without realizing how much I’d find myself mirrored in its pages.

The most recent K-drama that sparked this entry is Our Unwritten Seoul, a gem recommended to me by my self-appointed K-drama expert cousin. Spoilers ahead! (Well, kind of). Among the many things it dives deep into is the messiness of figuring out who you are, especially when you feel stuck.

I should mention that I’ve been unemployed for 17 months now. Yes, months. The choice is deliberate. I used to roll my eyes whenever moms said their child was “48 months old.” Why not just say four years? But now I get it. Sometimes stretching time out -month by month- feels like a way of slowing it down, of softening its weight.

I should also mention that watching series has always been my favorite way to unwind, employment status aside. There’s something comforting about knowing I have an episode (or two) waiting for me at the end of the day. It’s part of my evening rhythm, something small to look forward to, no matter what season of life I’m in.

So anyway, I’ve started another K-drama, and I’m only three episodes in, but it’s already doing a number on me. The female lead quits her prestigious job, cancels her engagement, and returns home, leaving everyone stunned. She has no plan. No roadmap. And in the last episode I watched, I found myself relating to her choices. She spends her days sleeping, napping, drifting in thought, playing games, and watching movies until the early hours of the morning.

She says she wants to be happily unemployed.

That phrase caught me. Because I haven’t cracked it.

How do you enjoy the gift of time that comes with unemployment, when guilt shadows everything you do?

• Guilt for sleeping in.
• For taking a nap.
• For stepping away from endless job applications.
• For rediscovering hobbies that bring you peace, but feel “unproductive.”

How do you stay present when your brain won’t stop whispering that you’re falling behind?

Behind the friends landing permanent contracts.

Behind those pursuing master’s degrees.

Behind the ones getting married, having children, growing their savings, traveling the world.

How do you become happily unemployed when some mornings you wake up feeling like a bum?

When you feel like you’re letting everyone down-your parents, your siblings, even yourself?

And what about the clock? That silent, invisible timer that ticks louder every day, reminding you that your time is running out.

Some days, the best I can do is send out one. application. Other days, the best I can do is take an evening walk and watch the sunset. Both should count, but the guilt remains.

So I keep circling back to the question:

How do you become happily unemployed?

Your future self thanks you for the effort you’re putting into today.

I’ve been unemployed since April 2024. Now, we’re eight days into 2025, and let me just say – the job-hunting process is a very much bottom of the barrel experience.

And no, it’s not my first time being unemployed.

I truly appreciate organizations with streamlined, easy processes. No unnecessary hoops like creating profiles, updating them endlessly, tailoring your CV and cover letter, and then circling back to check the status.

As someone who has essentially become a full-time job hunter, I can’t stress enough how draining it is. Tailoring my documents to fit the job description? Fine. Familiarizing myself with the organization’s mission and values? No problem. But please, don’t expect me to fangirl over your company. I’m applying to dozens, if not hundreds, of jobs – it’s just not sustainable to muster up that level of enthusiasm every single time.

And transparency – can we talk about that? Companies ask for our honesty about every aspect of our lives. Have I ever been arrested? Dismissed for disciplinary reasons? They demand we wear our hearts on our sleeves, yet they won’t disclose something as basic as the salary range for a role. Why all the cloak-and-dagger? If you want honesty, reciprocate it.

This process is utterly exhausting. From the outside, people don’t see the sheer amount of work and emotional energy that goes into each application. Motivating yourself after countless rejection emails while clinging to the belief that rejection is simply redirection from God – it’s tough. It takes everything to stay in a good headspace, to keep sending out high-quality applications.

And then there are the comments. “Are you still applying?” or “Are you applying enough?” As if this is some hobby or I’m sitting on a trust fund. Those words cut deeper than people realize.

To anyone out there searching for a job: you’re doing the absolute best you can. This season is hard, but it’s not permanent. This too shall pass.

Death and the grief it leaves behind are inescapable. If you’ve ever lost someone close – whether a parent, sibling, friend, or relative – you know the sting. That loss lingers. The scent of death is something that stays with you, even after years have passed.

Losing a parent as a child is a nightmare. At that age, you don’t fully grasp the weight of it. The finality of death feels abstract. Yet even as adults, when we understand its inevitability, we’re still shocked when the news breaks that someone has died.

When you lose someone young, death imprints on you in a way that’s hard to shake. You may find yourself grieving for people who are still alive. It’s a thought I can’t escape. If my mum doesn’t answer my call, I don’t immediately think, They’re busy or Their phone is on silent. Instead, my mind jumps to the worst-case scenario.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s a blessing to have your parents with you. But at some point, you realize that as you’re getting older, so are they. And one day, they won’t be here anymore.

Andrew Garfield once captured grief beautifully after losing his mom:

“[Grief] is all the unexpressed love. It’s the love we wish we’d had time to share. It stays with us because no amount of time – whether someone lives to 15, 60, or 99 – is ever enough.”

We can never spend enough time with our loved ones to prepare for their absence. If you sometimes find yourself thinking about your parents’ mortality – or that of someone you love – it’s okay. Only a fool goes through life without contemplating death.

Everyone has their guilty pleasure – stalking people on socials, snacking, journaling, or reading. Mine? Binging TV shows.

Right now, I’m deep into Desperate Housewives, and I can’t help but feel sorry for women married to the Tom Scavos of the world. You know the type: the guy who looks great on paper but isn’t. The one who woos a career-driven woman only to subtly nudge her into a traditional role – ensuring she’s pregnant every other year. The one who doesn’t acknowledge the sacrifice of leaving your job to raise children. Or the sheer effort of turning a house into a home while managing long, relentless days with kids constantly demanding your attention.

Pinterest: https://pin.it/4VPLsKWca

On paper, he seems like a stand-up guy. Charming, supportive, the type your friends would envy. But maybe a few perceptive friends would catch on – something about him doesn’t sit right. Yet they might stay silent, afraid of overstepping or being accused of “not understanding motherhood.” Because, of course, “you don’t get it unless you’re a mom.”

Partners like this are draining, to say the least. They don’t anticipate your needs or consider you in their actions. Once, you might have thought they were lucky to have you, but now? They’ve stopped holding you in high regard, confident they’ve secured you for good.

It’s safe to say I’ve detested many TV characters over the years. But when it comes to drama, Tom Scavo has definitely earned his place on that list.