Brave Newish World

We did it folks. My second news update. Fully written with all new words, and on time according to the arbitrary deadline I set for myself. Ring the bell.

For a couple of reasons, this month’s update is on the shorter side. The first is that I’ve been busy working on a few projects that haven’t been announced yet, so there’s not much to talk about there. These projects have been pretty exciting opportunities, so I’m definitely looking forward to sharing them in future updates. The second reason is… less exciting. In the words of the health insurance industry, this past month I was hit with a qualifying life event. I was laid off.

I decided to talk about my lay off here, not for the sake of sympathy or catharsis, but because the whole subject still feels taboo. It’s an uncomfortable thing for most people, something best kept quiet or mentioned briefly in a low, humbled manner. And while I understand why that is for the most part, I don’t think it helps anyone. It definitely doesn’t help us. The proletariat us. The ones who are on the receiving end of these layoffs that have become so common, so endless that they now verge on the mundane. Everyday there’s someone on LinkedIn breaking the news of their layoff, or offering their sympathies to those affected by one. Since the pandemic, there’s been a nearly endless stream of entertainment and video game companies announcing round after round of layoffs. The messaging always seems to be the same, the phrasing predictable. Restructuring amid a disrupted business environment. A necessary reduction in workforce. The normal course of business.

Normal.

Despite this normalcy, layoffs still carry a measure of shame with them, a debilitating symptom of our toxic economic system. For that reason alone, it’s worth talking about our experiences and sharing what details we can. After all, my first update here was about my journey as a creative professional, and like it or not, this is a part of that journey. So, let’s talk about it.

The specifics of my layoff are irrelevant, of course. That’s the part that really isn’t about me. What matters is the aftermath. It might be entertaining to watch the spectacle of the bombs dropping, but the compelling story is always what comes after. How does the world rebuild? How does our vault dweller survive? Is it possible to be too attracted to Walton Goggins? We demand answers.

After receiving the news, I spent a day or two slipping between cautious optimism and outright panic. Between those two extremes, I mostly felt adrift. Like a balloon let loose from a child’s grasp, with the solid ground slowly disappearing beneath me, and live powerlines just above me. I was housesitting for my parents at the time, so all of this was playing out while I was alone in my childhood home, which is located in what might as well be the Middle of Nowhere, California. I was isolated. Think The Shining but a version edited for afternoon television. I took time to text with my wife and my brother and I emailed a few folks, but beyond that I was mostly alone with my thoughts. I tried to distract myself with movies and video games, but it was hard to stay still, so I spent a lot of time wandering around the house thinking, trying to process everything that was rattling around inside of me. Trying to figure out what to do next.

In nearly twenty years of working, I had never been laid off. I always had some kind of day job and suddenly now, I didn’t. It’s unnerving to think about, but so much of who we are is tangled up in our jobs. The thing we do for a living inevitably defines whole chunks of who we are. They’re part of our identity, something we provide after our name when meeting someone new. They’re the place where so many of us find our friends, our communities, and even our spouses. At their best, our jobs give us a purpose and a framework to build our lives around. And when they’re gone, it’s like an albatross around your neck. Insurance, healthcare, rent, utilities, groceries, your car, money. Money. All the precious, fundamental necessities you need to pilot your meat mech through life, they all become another albatross, weighing you down with stress and uncertainty. How am I going to pay my bills? How long will it take for me to find another job? I have an appointment next month, what the hell am I going to do about my health insurance? How can anyone afford anything?

What am I going to do?

I wasn’t angry or upset about the layoff. From the moment it happened, it only ever felt like my luck running out. My turn. Which, in its own way might be the darkest thing I ever write. I don’t know much about economics, but I know when something doesn’t work, which is part of why I have such strong feelings about how we do things in this country. I mean, I used the world proletariat earlier, my feelings toward capitalism are clear. That said, I’m also a realist, and this is the system. So rather than thrash and rage over what happened, I paced the hallways of my parent’s house, propelled by anxiety and the overwhelming need to figure out what to do.

What am I going to do?

To be frank, I’m still figuring it out. Despite feeling like months have passed, it’s only been a couple of weeks since I was laid off, and nothing happens overnight. Each day I try to get one thing or another done, slowly chipping away at the bigger problem. Signing up for this program, closing that account, unsubscribing from that service. Rinse. Die. Repeat. Thankfully, this is where the cautious optimism comes in. I mentioned it in my previous update, but this year I’ve taken on more freelance work than I ever have before. Some of that is opportunity and luck, and some of it is having the creative and mental bandwidth for it. What started as a few small jobs here and there has grown into a steady stream of projects, so much so that for the first time in my entire career, I am seriously considering going freelance full time.

For a lot of people that won’t seem like a big deal, but for me it is. Freelancing full time is letting go of the side of the pool and venturing into the deep end where there are sure to be sharks. It’s playing the game on nightmare mode. It’s performing without a net when your last name is Grayson. It’s fully trusting in my ability to do the work and to keep it coming. Thankfully, there’s a good amount of work to be had at the moment, more than I could have imagined, and that’s due entirely to a group of folks who’ve been incredibly kind, supportive, and generous toward me this year.

So here is us, on the raggedy edge. There are still plenty of unknowns. Plenty that needs to be figured out. I’m still pacing, still worried about tomorrow. But one foot is still going firmly in front of the other. If nothing else, the prospect of being a freelance designer full time is exciting, so in some ways, I’m eager to see what comes next. And despite everything, I’m very aware of just how lucky I’ve been. I have supportive people around me that have made this whole episode much easier to navigate. Not everyone is fortunate in that regard. And let’s be frank, the layoffs aren’t going to stop. They’re up there now with death and taxes. Seasonal allergies. Republicans acting weird in donut shops. All inevitable. All normal.

If help or support is going to come from anywhere, it’ll have to come from us. Yes, that us. So, help who you can, when and where you can. Speaking from my own experience, even a simple text message, a simple check in, can go a long way to helping someone feel like all of that weight is a little easier to carry.

“Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were heading for shore.”

― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451