Good luck, Sophia. I'll add only that there are a lot of support groups out there. The virtue of a support group is that everyone has Been There. It's the kind of place where you can say that your mental health has been so bad at times that you've spent a week in the psych unit at a local hospital, and everybody will start talking about which hospital has the best psych unit.

I will write this g-d cover letter today if it kills me.

You got this, writer! I'm confident you have a pool of excellent proof readers here too.

I also have a "people might see me" aversion. Complete strangers I don't care about, but neighbors, yup. I find myself putting off running errands until after dark sometimes. Totally irrational, no idea where it comes from but it reminds me of, shoot, was it a Ray Bradbury story? Widow of an astronaut who fell into the sun or something.

Anyway, knowing that telling your mother would lead her to adding to your stress makes me think that postponing telling her for a bit is ok. Can you have a friend with you when you tell her to give you support?

I usually told my mom stuff like this after it was over. Otherwise she would stress herself out, and also she would try to help in totally unhelpful ways that often made more work for me and got in the way of me taking care of business. I'd have to spend emotional energy I couldn't spare trying to manage her fears.

The cover letter is written, the resume is tweaked, and both are sent to the company in question, who may not even be hiring anymore, because it turns out that position was first advertised in September. Oh well. I suspect that they will be hiring again sometime anyway, and now I'm following them on social media so I'll find out in time to throw another resume at them.

To be honest I don't want to find another job just yet. I'm so totally burned out on the whole corporate environment. I need to rest and recalibrate and maybe I'll end up doing something totally different. I've got six months of COBRA and six months' worth of money, and while of course I have to keep applying for jobs, both for my mental health and also to keep my unemployment checks* coming, I could really use a few months of breathing room.

\*I refuse to feel bad about living off unemployment for a while. I paid my share into unemployment for 40 years.

I feel awkward about leaving my apartment if I've just heard a neighbor open and close their door, because I don't want to seem like the Louis Tully sort who lies in wait to spring out and ambush people whenever they walk by. I usually give it a ten count to miss them. No aversion to bumping into people as I come home, though.

Did I say anything here about my next door neighbor and I peeking into the apartment across the hall that our landlord converted into an AirBnB? He knew the place was supposed to be empty and suggested taking a look, then when we were wandering around the apartment being nosey we realized the light was on in the bedroom and someone's purse was on the bed. We scrambled around the place like Lucy and Ethel making sure we set all the lights and doors the way we found them before running out. After we got to his apartment I pointed out we hadn't gotten around to looking in the bathroom, and there might have been a terrified guest hiding in there listening to us and thinking she was going to be robbed or worse!

Resting for a while makes total sense, Zen! You should not feel bad about living off of unemployment, that's what it is for.

That is funny and also kind of scary, Matt. Was it just unlocked?

I definitely support taking extended time to reset, Zen!

Yikes, Matt! I second -t's "funny and also kind of scary."

Zen, your job burned you out so much that just chilling the fuck out for a few months is an excellent idea. You have COBRA and you have enough money to just chill out, so do it! (And yup, you paid into Unemployment for this very reason. Absolutely collect it.)

Totally irrational, no idea where it comes from but it reminds me of, shoot, was it a Ray Bradbury story? Widow of an astronaut who fell into the sun or something.

The very story that inspired Elton John's song "Rocket Man."

I'm your nightmare neighbor! I will open my door on purpose to talk to my across the hall neighbor because I like to get to know their toddler. A true San Francisco girl, her middle name is "Fog."

That said, I would not judge you for taking down your trash or exiting in the daylight.

Buffistas, yesterday I committed an act of goofy awkward self sabotage that was worthy of Ginger, or Hil or even Erin's knife-in-ass story.

Who wants to hear my tale of ridiculous woe?

Who wants to hear my tale of ridiculous woe?

I, for one, will be terribly sad if I don't get to hear it. Although I really hope you didn't end up with a knife in your butt.