Here’s the breakdown:

Jobs I Applied For: 172

Rejection notices: 80

AA Meetings I attended: 61

Coffee networking dates: 55

Lunch networking dates: 39

Days I spent at coffee shops just to get out of the house: 37

Mornings I woke up physically sick to my stomach: 30

Weeks of unemployment income: 24

Stress weight gained: 22lbs

Days the temperature went below zero: 13

Arbitrary trips I took out of town even though I couldn’t afford them: 11

Days I spent in Mexico trying to clear my brain: 9

Days I spent in Mexico stressing about being unemployed: 9

Buddhist meditation classes: 8

Weeks I spent nursing my wounds in my hometown of Des Moines: 7

Times I updated/modified/reinvented my resumé: 6

Times I called my 104-year old father in hysterics: 5

Times my 104-year old father talked me off the ledge: 5

Times I updated my LinkedIn: 4

Headhunters I had working with me: 3

Recruiters I had working with me: 2

Panic attacks that had me hospitalized: 1

Interviews: 0

Callbacks: 0

Note the last two numbers, folks. In a word, things were bleak. No, it had actually graduated beyond bleak. Not to be dramatic, but I think the word I’m looking for here is dire. It’s no wonder I got so sickeningly stressed out. I have a phenomenal work ethic, always have. And when I was gainfully unemployed, I nearly lost my mind.

I tried yoga. I volunteered. I prayed more than I’ve prayed in my entire life. Nothing helped remedy the sinking pit of despair that was forever holding my stomach hostage. My happy-go-lucky attitude soured, except on social media, of course. Thank God I have good friends who would offer sage advice or allow me to vent (read that: emotionally vomit on them). Case in point: for two months straight, I would dutifully call my friend Lyra at 7:30 every weekday morning while she was putting on her face and getting dressed for work. That 20-minute conversation would somehow take my mind off the fact I wasn’t going to work, nor did I have anything of merit to do that day. Those phone calls were a lifesaver. Mindless lifesavers.

When I got laid off on December 22^nd, mind you, it threw me for a loop that quickly went in to a severe downward spiral. I circled the drain for two solid months. I can’t even tell you what transpired in the months of January or February because I was such a sad sack. Thank God I didn’t get offered a job then. I was not an ideal candidate for anyone. Hell, I wasn’t even an ideal living, breathing human.

Now, looking back, I realize things were at Defcon 4 instead of Defcon 1. When you’re in a constant state of worrying and/or dread, you’re incapable of anything else. Well, at least, that was the case for me.

Get this — every professional job I’ve ever landed in my adult life was because the company came after me. I’ve had zilcho luck applying for jobs. My new gig that I start Monday is no different. After seven months of languishing in unemployment hell, I got a phone call. I had an offer less than 24 hours after my interview. Things can change that quick. I slept like a rock for the first time in a long time on Friday night knowing I was soon to be a productive member of society again.

Of course, what was the first question I asked before I accepted the job? “Hey, how much vacation do I get?”

Yeah, I’m back. Renewed. Recharged. Revitalized. And more than ready to hit the ground running. Wish me luck!