So there she was, face to face to one of her biggest fears… the letter of “friendly letting you go from the office” had arrive and with it, the responsibility of listing herself as unemployed (and heartbroken) in the Job Center.
Wasn’t the fact that she had no where to go enough? Wasn’t the fact that she had to keep living with the one person she thought was the love of her life and now he didn’t love her, enough? Now she had to go somewhere with her head down and officially say “I am broken”.
And so there she was, standing at the entrance of a building that would define her next moves. With a bag full with papers and documents she was told to bring (the letter, the Anmeldung, the contract of the flat she once adored, her passport, the insurance card and her bank details). Walking side by side with a French girl who was kind enough to offer her help with the translations.
After a asking around they figured they had to go to the 5th floor and wait there for their number to be called. Both knowing it could take a while since they didn’t have an appointment. But half-hour later they were inside an office explaining to the person who types the information down her unfortunate situation.
During this process, to ask questions will make the person in front of the desk anxious and upset. They definitely don’t like questions. But either way she got a few answers and by the end of the interview she had already a lot papers and forms to fill out and the indications to go to another floor to wait for the second interview, this one, with the person responsible for helping find another job.
The waiting time for this one seemed longer but she knew it wasn’t. No one was assuring her she was going to get the help she desperately needed and that was making her loose her mind. She was already trying really hard not to cry every second of the day. Struggling with keeping the tiniest piece of food in her stomach and fighting her urges of staying locked up at home feeling sorry for herself. Getting up was a challenge and a hard one to be honest. You know how it is when you are sad, how your body feels weak and fragile, how the simplest things can turn out to be unbearable… like smiling or believing your life will go on. But moments like this are the ones that define you. How you react is the reflection of how strong you are. Because that’s what they are… moments. Moments in a life that is not over yet.
Suddenly, her name eccoed in the hallway. It was time for the second interview. The French girl stood up fast, you should meet her, she’s so full with good energy. Contagious even when joy seems a distant, close to impossible thing.
This time questions were welcomed and answered slow and calm so translations could take place. She was asked for her work experience, her health, her money situation and of course, the reason she was there that day. They explained the process of job selection and asked her to sign a contract agreeing with very logical terms like actively look for a new job and apply for the suggested ones or let them know in case of sickness. And by the end of the interview she had another big pile of forms to fill up, an amazing amount of information dancing in her mind, a new appointment for the next week and still no certainty of getting financial help.
Overwhelmed and right at the edge of loosing the battle with her tears, she said goodbye to her new friend and waited for the bus that was going to take her to that flat that used to be the happiest place she had.
Minute by minute, sadness started taking control and suddenly there she was… standing at the entrance, tears falling, battle lost.