The common wisdom is to never leave a job without another lined up. I didn't do that. Wondering whether it was the right choice won't actually help my situation, so I'm just forging ahead. There are some aspects of my situation I really enjoy. I have time to bake, read and learn to play the guitar. I've been watching a documentary about Jacques Cousteau. I don't wake up feeling dread or guilt. I successfully got on jobseeker's, so as long as I live on a pittance, I can continue to at least have the same amount of money (inflation notwithstanding...). That being said, the longer I'm unemployed, the fear does grow. Employers will start to look down on how long I've been unemployed and perhaps will wonder what on earth is wrong with me. So that's fun.
I left a super high paying job - almost six figures. Money really doesn't give you happiness. It does, however, give you vacations and the ability to buy a car. Transitioning from a steady income to being in financial stasis has exposed how difficult it is for people in poverty to lift themselves out of it. If I didn't have my car, I wouldn't be able to just zip down to the supermarket to buy baking soda. I wouldn't be able to attend a meeting in an out-of-the-way spot. My life would be dictated by a bus that runs every hour (not nearly enough). And on the pittance this country gives unemployed people, saving for a car is just about impossible. So I can very much see how people become stuck with no way out and no path forward.
As it stands, I'm focusing on my study and trying to stay sane. I apply for jobs every day but basically treat all of them like a lost cause unless I hear back.
Mediating screen time has curiously become more difficult. Obviously no matter what, I look at screens less now, because I had a screen-based job. Staring at a screen for eight hours is no way to live life, but it's a seductive idea. But I'm a homebound creature with an intense dislike of getting sweaty, so mitigating the amount of time I spend blobbing is a bit difficult. If only I had space in my messy room for a treadmill....
My little brother is doing a certificate at the moment. I keep trying to convince him to study for his restricted license and get a part time job. I bother him about it because I worry about him, but I do wonder whether I'm substituting my personal fears onto him in some sort of weird freudian control move. I'm sure he'll be fine in the end.