2024 Wrapped
Let’s all be honest. Spotify’s 2024 wrapped was a grand disappointment, especially after they gave us an entire extra week to wait for it. Instead of ruminating over how much I will miss the data, let’s drop some stats for my year in 2024.
Kiddo ear infections: 6
Coffees consumed: 8 Million
Jobs lost: 1
Novels written: 1
To say it’s been a big year would be an understatement of epic proportions. “The Titanic isn’t that far down” level. If I were an astrology girlie, I’d say the planets were up in my business over the last 12 months, especially the last 9.
What started as a bug in my ear to get two characters out of my head back in May has evolved into a hefty draft clocking in at 120k words with high hopes of being able to write a sequel to make it a duology. I plan to query in January 2025.
So how did I get here?
Family. The blood kind, the found kind, the made kind. If it hadn’t been for their support, I honestly can’t say how much worse this all could have gone. I lost my job at the end of June and it launched me into a depressive episode the likes of which I haven’t seen in so very long. It’s hard to explain to people outside tech, but there’s this expectation that if you’re not innovating (to make someone else money) then you’re useless. It’s capitalistic and drilled into your bones with every pointless meeting, superfluous email, and cringe-worthy manager meeting. Yet I found myself so deeply embroiled in that culture that when I was booted from it unceremoniously, I had zero idea of who I was as a person. Not a few weeks prior, I had joked my company was like a cult, but “the good kind”. I wasn’t even alone in that sentiment. Burnout was inevitable at the rate I was going. I just didn’t see the signs.
I lost a piece of me that day, realizing I was my worst nightmare. I had sold parts of my soul year over year for a big paycheck and a chance at being praised and ended up with nothing. Honestly, I’m a little grateful to have been laid off. Leaving on my own terms was probably not going to happen and if I’d stayed, there’s no telling how much further into my burnout I would have gone. The dark place was fast approaching when my new manager decided I was no longer important to the company I’d given the last three years to. I only briefly considered mailing her a glitter bomb of penis-shaped confetti.
And in the gap my tech job left, my family stepped in and told me to write the book I’d been talking about for months. Unilaterally, the advice I got was to see the blessing I’d been handed and take advantage. My husband and friends, my mom, grandparents, everyone. It’s really hard not to cave to that kind of peer pressure, so I listened. Writing became my new full-time job, with a side-hustle of applying for another job (unsuccessfully).
That brings us to today, nearly 6 months from when I lost my identity as a professional and what do I have to show for it? Over 500 job applications and no job. Three drafts of my novel run through two rounds of editing. A lighter bank account accompanied by a lighter heart.
I won’t minimize how hard it’s been. Imposter syndrome is nipping at my heels constantly. Anxiety over having no income is coming in a close second place in my perpetual worries list. Sometimes they win out as the loudest voice in my skull. But six days out of seven, I’m happy with the path I’ve chosen. So many days I get to the end of my workday and wish I could have had more time. Spreadsheets never gave me that feeling.
Looking ahead to 2025, I have big plans. Maybe somewhere in there I’ll need to be gainfully employed again, but I certainly won’t be giving away any parts of my soul. Those pieces are exclusively reserved for my stories. And one day, I hope I get to share those with the world.
