The question on everyone’s lips (hopeful, irrational) is “How has Edders been doing?” Judging by how I seem to be pressing keys and forming words and then pressing backspace quite frequently, I’m clearly searching for an answer. Let’s try and form one.

I left RPS in January after 7+ years in the games industry, as someone who saw Gamer Network’s fluid, family atmosphere harden under corporate takeovers. My hope was to channel my word-generating passion and plug it into a copywriting career divorced from games. I’d hoped to wave goodbye to my fellow 9-to-5 comrades with a jangle of my car keys and shelve the corpo spiel in amongst my grey matter as I closed the door behind me. “Finally”, I thought, “I can bring value to shareholders”. 

Now, I won’t get into the details here, but the copywriting gig wasn’t quite what I expected, and I decided it was best for me to leave. Abrupt, I know. But hey, sometimes hard decisions require force.

Rewinding the clock ever so slightly, I should add that just before I started my new job, I’d connected with someone on a dating app. We clicked instantly, I asked her out, and I couldn’t have been giddier. This is an important bit of context that I also won’t delve deeply into as it develops (for obvious reasons), but imagine a slice of my heart suddenly being punted into a pinball machine.

And so I entered my Unemployment Arc, with my head spinning and a bit of my heart zipping off in all directions. For two weeks it was quite nice to have a bit of a rest and decompress from the day-to-day grind. I can’t identify what it is I actually did, except maybe walk to Tesco, watch terrible TV, and occasionally stare at a wall. After that, though, my subconscious turned on the big light and announced: “Hey, I need money”, and “While you’re at it, take this, it’s anxiety but bigger”. 

With my snoozing self startled, I saw success lay in reaching over to my shattered sleep schedule and pinning some routine into it. And so I refreshed countless job boards and built silly CVs and cover letters and threw them into archaic systems designed to shred them and make you regurgitate every detail in a series of separate boxes with inane questions instead. 

If you’ve never been unemployed, I really hope you aren’t; especially if you haven’t got anything to fall back on, like severance pay or a new job. It’s a scenario that seeps into everything, really. Rather than spell it out in wordy paragraphs, I think it’s better summarised in a format that belies a slideshow of how life blurs, where each bullet point is a jolt that threatens your protective slumber.

• You go for a routine eye test and lie to the nice Specsavers lady that you’ve got the Friday off. There’s a jolt of hurt when she expresses jealousy.
• You pass a gym instructor on your way back from Tesco, who says, “Working from home today?”, and you say, “Yeah” with a big smile.
• You stare out your window at 2pm, the longest part of the day. It’s quiet. That’s because everyone is in a job and you’re not.
• You write CVs, you write cover letters, you reluctantly hone it like a skill. You wait weeks and don’t hear anything back. Your bank account flails. An underlying anxiety thrums.
• You cry on your birthday, then put on a brave face as you go and see your mates.
• You feel hopeful as you sink into sleep and you tell yourself tomorrow is going to be better.
• The next day, you go to a mortgage advisor and they tell you financial collapse won’t happen for longer than you expected. You might not lose your flat after all.
• You feel elated when employers reach out. It feels like you’re floating. You are slammed back to earth when interviews seem to go well and the opening line of the email you’ve waited two weeks for belies rejection. The job title gets struck through on the spreadsheet. 
• You are lucky enough to move back in with your parents to build routine; to feel comfort.
• You feel like your writing skills are dying. You keep up blogs. You mock review games occasionally on a freelance basis. You regret leaving the industry.
• You’re reminded by wise former colleagues and close friends that it’s right to have moved on. You still cling on to hopes you might get back in. You still cling on to hopes you might finally be able to leave.

Several months in, I remember lying on a sofa and getting a call right in the middle of putting together yet another CV. I’d tackled two interviews and two tasks over the course of a few weeks for the role, and was both suppressing the dream scenario and steeling myself for failure. I slammed the phone to my ear and walked upstairs, ready to wander back down and tell my parents it hadn’t worked out. 

By the time I took that call, the anxiety in my body resembled a massive wave suspended in static. As I received the news, I repeated “Thank you so much” with a quiver and a whole body buzz, as “We’d like to offer you the job” unsuspended time and the tidal wave finally crashed. I yelled “I got it!” as I raced downstairs and hugged my parents. I then sat down and shuddered and cried. I’d never cried out of relief or happiness before.

As I write this, I’m in that job – there is a chance I have been fired for mentioning to a colleague that I used to write about video games and I actually did a video with a lad called Liam about Sonic Frontiers – and it’s just really nice to have, well, a job again. It’s lovely to learn new things and meet new people, albeit odd that it’s not in games, as games were all I knew.

A reminder that throughout all of the above, my pinballing heart steadied and entered a relationship that brought me a wealth of joy during a time of turmoil. It sadly didn’t work out not too long into the new gig, but I’ll be eternally grateful for everything we shared together. Not only have I discovered that I’m capable of opening my heart and caring very deeply for someone, I’ve also done a lot of grieving and reflection. The difficult days still surprise, but they’re just about softening. In the space that’s opening up? A warmth for what was and tentative excitement for what’s next. I truly hope she finds all the happiness she deserves. 

So, alongside everything I’ve learned in the Unemployment Arc, gratefulness is a theme I’m carrying forward. Namely, that the people I surround myself with are the absolute best.

All of my friends were there for me when the relationship broke down and I, inevitably, broke down. Some I hadn’t spoken to in months and yet, the unspoken bond persists, doesn’t it? 

I got to spend extended time with my family, absorbing the daily rhythms of their life and going on calming countryside walks. My dad and I visited the seaside towns where he grew up along the coast. We ate ice cream, had fish and chips, and threw rocks into the sea as the sun warmed our skin. He’s still got a very strong arm, despite what he says.

Nish patiently absorbed my spiel and generously took notes, offering her perspective on everything. She didn’t have to take notes, I was touched! We then caught up more generally and promised each other we’d tumble through all things trash TV when we next meet. The Two Dans took my mind off things in London, steering me through a newly opened Ikea in Oxford Street knowing full well that a discussion concerning the potential benefits of Egyptian cotton over regular cotton has the power to mend. Burn (a great friend I’ve known for like, 17 years) knew I’d be in London and sought me out like a homing missile. We sat in this lazy courtyard with a coffee, and as I broke down a bit and awkwardly laugh-blubbed, I sensed an appreciation on both sides: we are welcome to this, anytime.

Indieventure’s own Liam? Yeah, he was there listening to me heave over the phone, always checking in to see how I was in those early days. Thanks man, truly.

Simon and his wife Emma: there throughout. No problem. The tour around their new home proceeded no matter if it was originally meant to be the first exciting meeting between them and my ex. No matter at all. Sun, gelato, a BBQ. Hands on our hips, “That plant looks like it’s healthy”. Their future could’ve been a deep sting, but no, it steered my grief into a tight hug.

Shout out to my personal trainer (technically not personal as I pay for group classes, but no-one else attends my unhinged 8pm timeslot) Gym Simon, who offered advice and wisdom as I did some staggered RDLs. I’m lucky that he’s of the opinion that talking about mental health is cool and good actually. He’s also championed me and my slipped disc recovery for countless months and ever since I could barely do anything besides move like C3PO. I’ll parcel up that happiness I’ll feel when I finally step back on court and spill it to him that week. It’s the least I could do for him and his rippling biceps.

Another great friend, Len, who I’ve known for 20 years? He lives close and yet, as things sometimes are, we didn’t meet up as often as we should. Over unemployment and the breakup, that changed. We watched classic films together – Good Will Hunting rips – and got deep into his own difficult work situation. He felt stuck. He opened up further about his own relationships, more than he’d ever done before. Yes, we are welcome to this, anytime.

As for other media, I’ve regained a love for reading, both thanks to the quiet of unemployment and because my ex used to gift me sad books (my favourite genre). Not that I ever lost that love, I just think the media churn of being a full-time games journalist broke my ability to consume media effectively.

Oh yeah, games. Um, starting to feel excited to play things again. I get into this a lot more on the pod, so go listen! (Oh go on then, I’m looking forward to Borderlands 4 because I can play it mindlessly like a loot goblin. Ball X Pit looks right up my street as well. The Eternal Life Of Goldman, yes please).

I realise that this post may have been a bit, “Oh poor Ed with his itty bitty problems – does he want his boo boo”, as I know that people go through a lot worse in life, and this post is self-indulgence on a page. Perhaps, though, what I’ve learned is that this is for me. Actually, yeah, writing – at least right now – has regained a bit of its lustre as it is, in and of itself, an outlet. I am not writing for an outlet anymore, I am arranging my thoughts on a page and you are welcome to it, anytime. Ha.

Otherwise, I feel like I’m living and learning and growing. I’m an anxious soul, but a resilient one. I work hard and I’m putting myself out there more so than ever before. No, it’s not That Oblivion Feeling, it’s a lengthy process at work. A peek over the plateau. A strap of the helmet. A nod to my pals. A headlong charge.

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BONUS HYPERFIXATIONS THAT AREN’T ON THE POD I AM GIDDY WITH POWER

Here are some extra things I’m enjoying right now: 

• The band “After”. Their song “300 Dreams” is a good place to start. 
• This Washington Post video on Labubu’s rise made me feel like an old man in an armchair on some front porch like you might see in South Carolina. I’m blowing pipe smoke into the breeze as my little nephew explains the lore behind his Labubu, and I reply, “That’s really nice pal, let me have a look at it”. And as I raise its grinning face to my neutral one, I see out of the corner of my eye a mushroom cloud appear in the distance and we are engulfed in a blinding flash of white.
• I’ve decided I’m going to become an overnight oats guy.
• This lamp pleases me.