That's how you ended up with a gig you probably shouldn't be in any way qualified to do, "safely" breaking things for minimum wage at a demolition and disposal company. You know the sort-- there are roughly a million and six of them and they all have titles that are variations on...
(Yes, that would be a lengthy phone number. Just... try not to think too much about it.)
And another gig delivering calorically sensible, questionably priced pre-made meals to probably mostly the same folks you visit for the other place.
So you can afford to exist in a very expensive city you convinced your partner to move to, so you can attend a very expensive art school with people half your age and twice as talented and/or skilled, so you can go and be an intern somewhere, someday, maybe.
(This totally hypothetical scenario that for sure isn't about me is set well before pandemic-pushed remote-work revolutions, really-quite-affordable online art schools, and what-not, back when blowing up one's life to run away and make cool things required... more drastic measures.)
You're tired, and beat up, and almost rolled the 1-800-CallUsWhenYou'reDoneWithIt truck through the shop's glass front wall today during checklist, spent more on gas than you made in tips at the other place, and still have a week's worth of homework to burn through before class in the morning.
Take a breath. A deep one. If you're currently tearing down drywall somewhere for 1-800-We'reSureBuyingSevenOfThatDidSeemWiseAtTheTime, make sure you're wearing your respirator.
What? You thought this would be easy?
You wanted something different than whatever you'd designed for yourself by necessity or whatever you thought was the right fit at that point in your life.
There's nothing wrong with that.
And you made the choice to pursue it. That's bolder than most folks allow themselves to be.
But rent's still due the first of every month. Utilities, food, and such are nice to have, too. And, you know, you just kind of want to show yourself and that person who took this flying leap with you that you can stick the landing.
That's on you.
Eventually, you're going to look back at this moment in time with... OK, maybe not fondness but at least an appreciation for it as part of a life lived.
Maybe finding the most efficient ways to break things is cathartic — maybe you even kind of enjoy it.
Also, maybe delivering has made you real familiar with this city you've just moved to, real quick — maybe at some point you'll move away and come back a few times, and always be able to reintegrate without a step missed.
Whatever spin you decide to put on your stretch in the trenches, it'll be a part of your story and that's not nothing.