Interviews are stress bombs. You hunger for the opportunity to nab one. You prepare for hours, days to do well on one. On the day of, you feel a pit in your stomach. What will they ask? What will I say? Am I desperate? Overeager? Overqualified, under qualified? And when it ends, you stress even more, wondering if you’ll ever hear from them again.

Repeat this process enough times, and I guarantee you’ll lose it. Just like me.

I’m still searching for a job. It’s really taken its toll on me. I try to keep busy, spending each day in a routine: rise early, work out, eat breakfast, search for jobs until 5:00 pm, try to quit for the day (but often continue), eat, swear I won’t look for another job but somehow can’t walk away from the computer. Then the evening vanishes, my eyes are shot and so is my resolve. I’ve gained weight from sitting at the computer so long. I feel awful a lot.

The NY Department of Labor requires that I apply to three jobs a week. That’s not such a big deal, but unfortunately, there have been some weeks where I really haven’t found anything that fits my experience. I search at least a dozen sites, hoping that maybe three jobs will pop out and say, “Apply!” If not, I take the jobs that have at least some of what I’m good at doing, and hope for the best.

Then there are actual jobs that fit my qualifications so closely, I know I can get the job. I know it! How can they not pick me?

That was the case over the past two weeks.

I found a job that perfectly aligned with the one I just left. Really, it could’ve been the same job, except it was at a different organization. I eagerly filled out the online application and uploaded my resume, cover letter and writing sample. Not even a day later, I heard back from them, asking to schedule an interview ASAP. Which I did. It went incredibly well! My heart soared as the interviewer told me she wanted me to meet her boss. Three days later, I had that coveted second interview. I hit it off with the boss as the interview extended long past its assigned time slot. She, too, was all smiles.

That was a Wednesday. I never felt so hopeful.

Thursday went by and not a word. Ditto with Friday. So I’m thinking that I’m not the only candidate and they have to size us all up to see which one is the best for the position. Which, of course, is me. I started thinking about what my day would now become, after having three months off. How I’d have to work out earlier, maybe. Learn some new programs, give my advice on where to take the organization’s development and communications next.

It’s the weekend. I spent it at my social club, enjoying the fine weather. Actually went swimming on Saturday! The pool opened and as I floated around on a pool noodle, I thought how nice it would be to relax here after a long week working. Sunday came, and again, spent the day enjoying the weather. There were lots of members about as the club held a members’ meeting outside, talking about the upcoming summer season, board business and the usual topics that these sort of meetings discuss. Toward the end, I checked my email, expecting to hear back from a friend of mine.

Instead, there it was. A rejection from the job I swore I got. Who does that on a Sunday?

Shame on me for having such high hopes.

At first, I felt a wave of shock come over me. I showed a friend, who pulled a sad face, then left without saying a word. So much for sympathy. I rose up from my chair and went into the kitchen, trying to absorb this loss. Suddenly, I broke down in tears, weeping, heavy sobbing tears. I tried to hide behind the linen cabinet, but a friend of mine spotted me and asked what was wrong.

I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth. Instead, I choked on them.

Friend leads me to the interior clubhouse, next to the kitchen, a place that would be more private. Finally, I told him. He wrapped his arms around me in consolation. A few moments later, more people entered the room, asking me what was wrong. It wasn’t hard to ignore them, since my tears were flooding Friend’s shoulder and I couldn’t see. I calmed down enough to explain to one person that I had high hopes for this job, but it seems they went with another candidate. She told me she’d been looking for two years. Another one chimed in to tell me that it’s a horrible market out there and I shouldn’t expect to find anything soon. Maybe I should rent out rooms in my house, or why not my whole house? Make some money that way, a third person added.

None of this helped. It only made me feel worse.

Finally, some sense came into the situation. My dear friend Sue came along and took me outside, away from everyone and everything. She talked me down from the ledge and said to never give up. That it’s going to take a while, maybe a long while, but persistence does pay off. I have a 100% chance of not getting jobs that I don’t apply to, and every chance to get something that I do. But in the meantime, I should allow myself a little recovery time. I’ve taken so much of myself to find work and so little to take care of me. My eyes are so dry from staring at the screen. I don’t sleep at night. I feel guilty when I don’t spend every waking minute looking for work.

Sue was right. I lost it because I’m mentally and physically exhausted. It’s not my fault that I haven’t found work. It’s circumstances. And I absolutely can’t give up.

As I sat in the empty clubhouse, sipping a cool glass of water, a member came up to me. “Please send me your resume,” he said. “Not sure if I can find anything for you, but I’ll do my best. I’ll pass it along to my wife, too. She has lots of connections.”

I gave him a hug. It might not lead to anything, but then again, it might.

Three days later, I receive an email. It’s from another place where I’d really, really like to work. They want me to schedule an interview right after Memorial Day. Am I available?

You bet I am!