Simply Irene

I truly believed I’d be more stable by now.

Not rich. Not living some fantasy life with yachts or private jets. Just steady, secure, and grounded. A life where things made sense and stayed in place for more than five minutes.

The last two years, though, have humbled me in ways I never expected.

When Life Keeps Knocking You Back

For nearly two years, it’s felt like a slow downward spiral.

In December 2023, I finally left a living situation that had become unbearable. I had been renting a room for three years, and while my landlord had always been difficult, things escalated—false accusations, increasing hostility, and a significant rent hike for a room that simply wasn’t worth it anymore. I walked away for my own sanity.

I found another place in Bed-Stuy that I wanted to love. The apartment itself was great: two rooms, a bedroom and a small office, and even a back balcony overlooking beautiful trees. The space had potential.

The roommate, however, was another story. We never even met during the seven months I lived there. Eventually, the landlord reclaimed the apartment, and I had to leave—unexpectedly and with very little time to recover.

That’s how I ended up essentially homeless for six weeks, sleeping on couches and relying on the kindness of others.

Loss After Loss Adds Up

As if housing instability wasn’t enough, the last two years also brought relentless loss.

Two cars were destroyed—both while parked—by other drivers. One was totaled after being hit head-on by someone driving the wrong way down my street. The other was destroyed in August.

Then, on August 28th, I lost my job.

That one nearly broke me.

Thankfully, I received some money from one of the accidents, which is holding me down for now, and I’ll be starting a temp role soon. But emotionally? It’s felt like I’ve been losing pieces of myself everywhere I turn.

Progress That Never Sticks

What makes it harder is that I have made progress—only to have it ripped away.

I took a new job in 2022 thinking it would be a step forward. It wasn’t. I stayed anyway. I adapted. I pushed through.

I moved closer to work and finally lived near a train. I could commute without driving an hour each way, without paying for parking, without sitting in traffic. I even walked to and from work sometimes. For a brief moment, things felt balanced.

Losing that apartment unexpectedly hurt far more than losing the roommate ever did.

The place I’m in now came by chance—and thankfully, it’s worked. It’s not perfect. I don’t have a proper oven. I’m using a cooktop. My shower is tiny, and at 5’9”, washing my hair is a challenge.

But there’s a vibe here that matters. And for now, that counts.

Exhaustion Beyond the Physical

Still, every time I take one step forward, it feels like I’m shoved three steps back.

And I’m tired.

Not just physically tired—though I feel that too.
I’m tired mentally.
Tired in my bones.
Tired in my spirit.

Trying to find a job right now only makes it heavier.

The Job Market Is Getting Worse in Real Time

The job market is shifting downward as we’re living in it.

In just the last few weeks, companies like Amazon, Target, and Nestlé announced massive layoffs—tens of thousands of people. That doesn’t even include furloughed federal workers looking for secondary jobs while they wait.

That means more competition.
More fear.
More people just trying to survive.

And now SNAP benefits are on the chopping block.

Everything feels harder. Everything feels tighter. And it’s not just personal—it’s systemic.

Stability Isn’t What I Thought It Was

There was a period between 2020 and 2022 when life felt balanced. Since then, stability has felt impossible to hold onto.

I’m Gen X—the figure-it-out generation. No tools. No roadmap. No therapy. We were latchkey kids who learned to survive because we had no choice.

I adapted then. I’m adapting now.

But I do wonder: when does peace arrive?

Now we’re told we need to be influencers, create personal brands, be AI-optimized job seekers, emoji communicators, and content creators just to be considered employable.

It’s a lot.

And yet—I survived a major blackout, multiple recessions, dial-up internet, and raised a child. Maybe stability isn’t a final destination.

Maybe Stability Is This

Maybe stability is knowing how to start over.

Knowing how to trust yourself again.
Knowing how to get off the floor when life becomes chaotic, unclear, and downright obnoxious.

Maybe stability is resilience—not permanence.

If You’re in the In-Between, You’re Not Alone

If you’re in that uncomfortable middle space—
not where you were,
not yet where you’re going—
you’re not failing.

You’re rebuilding.

We are not behind schedule.
We are not broken.
We are living and growing.

It’s one day at a time.
One breath at a time.
One step forward—no matter how small.

There is no race. We all end up in the same place eventually.

So for now, we just keep moving.

I’m tired. You’re probably tired too. But we’re still here—and that matters.

You are not alone.
We’re all in this together.

-Irene