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  • Writer: Rowena Poole | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
    Rowena Poole | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
  • Jul 18

It took me seven months after college graduation to land my first full-time job. I majored in animation—an extremely competitive field. Having a BA or BFA can make it excruciatingly difficult to find work. In my senior year of college, all the animation majors got to show off their senior film at the local movie theater. If it was good enough. The bar seemed very low. But for some reason, I didn’t make the cut. But then, to my knowledge, nobody in my graduating class had a job so quickly. Landing that job, even after seven months, felt like it was finally my time to shine.

Rebuilt by Kindness: Finding Hope in the Most Unexpected Places

It was a really boring job. I worked under contract, cutting up cardboard boxes and assembling mockup versions of toys for eight hours every day. I kept my head down, did what I was told, and displayed a very eager-to-learn version of myself. The job was not fulfilling. But at least I was employed, and at least I could say I had a real full-time job with hopes of finally moving out.


For some reason, they decided not to hire me full-time when the contract ended. They didn’t even tell me. I found out myself when my position was posted on Indeed. All this time, I wasn’t sure which would be better: to continue making money in a job I don’t enjoy during a time when the job market is terrible, or to have an opening and hope I’d have luck finding a job that better fits me. Turns out I didn’t get to choose. I felt a mix of relief, fear, and anger. How could they go behind my back like that? Being a temporary employee doesn’t mean I should be flung aside. Nothing was ever said to me about a lack of performance. When I confronted them, they briefly mentioned my leadership skills could use some work. I was working as an assistant, doing the things they didn’t have time to do themselves. What exactly was I supposed to lead? They had a lot of nerve saying that to me, when they never demonstrated leadership skills to me. A true leader would have led me. I was their golden opportunity to show off their leadership skills. But instead of leading me in whatever I lacked, they cut me off like a wart.


It didn’t quite hit me until I noticed the two men I worked with exit the room with some notebooks. It was clear they were off to interview someone while I was still working there. I called my mom during working hours in tears. It was Tuesday, and I decided to quit at the end of the week, two weeks before my contract would end. I would rather have those two weeks to look for work than to stay at a job where I didn’t like how I was treated. They would whisper in front of me, excluding me from necessary company conversations, and not even telling me that they did not want to continue with my application, or why. I still don’t know why. But I’ve decided that I don’t care. The reason probably has more to do with them than it does with me.


Sitting in the Discomfort


The devastation sat with me for a long time. I found out they were not going to extend my contract Memorial Day Weekend in 2024, while I was enjoying a weekend away in New York. I confronted them on the Tuesday we were back. When I heard their answer, I couldn’t even tell my parents for a few days. I stayed working for several more weeks, not exactly sure how to feel. It was bittersweet, and I was okay with that. I started looking and interviewing at a few places, nothing full-time, but just a buffer job that would keep me afloat until I could find something a bit more related to my field. Except it was tough to interview because I was still working under contract, which meant I couldn’t take a few hours off work to meet any potential employers. I did not see how truly stuck I was, blind to the sticky peanut butter surrounding me, originating from this job. I trudged forward, forcing myself to walk through the knee—deep, thick, invisible, peanut butter. I told myself it would be over soon, so I continued to allow myself to get smothered in more peanut butter.


The phone call I had with my mom almost one month later helped me realize how bad the situation was for me. I was trapped in a place that I couldn’t interview elsewhere, in a place where I had been shafted. I could finally see the peanut butter everywhere. It was probably up to my waist at that point. I had to do something about it, and I had to start taking care of myself. It was not an easy decision to quit early, but my mental health had to come first. The peanut butter had to go. I came back the next day with a resignation notice. All that was asked was if I had another opportunity lined up for me. I was honest. I said no. That was that. Had they asked for honest feedback, I would have given it to them. But they didn’t, and that’s on them for not wanting to improve.


In the few weeks that followed, I felt a little bit better that I was no longer working at that place. The peanut butter was swallowed with them. But as time continued to pass with no offers, I felt panic begin to set in. I was too far into the working world to go back to retail, but I was not yet experienced enough to do almost anything else. The relief was short-lived, and I was back to feeling like I was not good enough. The job was not just a way for me to make money. It felt like my chance to show that I could be good enough. But I lost it, just as I had not been accepted to show my senior film. I was moving backwards in life. What was I doing wrong?


To fill my time, I continued to hustle my art. I animate for myself a little bit, I operate a very small Etsy shop, and I write for Moody Melon. At a very low point in this situation, I honestly asked a very close and important person in my life what I do well that nobody else does. The answer really helped me. It may have been just to make me feel better, but I took it very seriously. I am very good at making animal ceramic mugs. All I needed to hear was one thing that I knew I could do.


Reframing the Loss


This was not something I could look at in a new way on my own. I spoke to my therapist about it a lot. While I was in work, she mentioned that I didn't seem happy there. I knew that I wasn’t exactly joyous, but the mindset of having a job during these hard times was enough to convince myself it wasn’t so bad.


Once I was out of work, she pointed out that I had been saying how much I wanted to have more time to focus on my art. I had wanted to expand my portfolio, make more things to sell at art markets, and also use the extra time to find my true potential. Now is the time when I can afford to do all that. I haven’t moved out yet, so I have no rent to pay. I can quite literally afford to have time now. One thing I learned is that it’s very difficult to both make money and have time. Right now, my life is focused on having the time I wanted.


Of course, I needed something to keep me afloat to pay for gas, food, and the opportunity to do things with friends that may cost money. I finally put my nail technician license to use and landed a part-time job at a nail salon. The paychecks are not even half of what I used to make, but they are enough to fill my tank and pay for occasional goodies such as art supplies. Things are not moving forward very quickly in the sense of saving up for moving out, but I don’t feel that I am moving backward anymore. I am simply staying at a point that is necessary in order for me to move forward in other aspects of my life. While I still occasionally get anxious about money, I remind myself that this time is what I have wanted for a long time. This exact point in my life is temporary. This, too, shall pass with the goal of moving forward.


Finding the Opportunity


The first thing I started doing semi-regularly after losing my job was going to the gym. I had wanted to find a good time that worked for me when the gym wasn’t too crowded. Late mornings, when I would typically be at work, were a good time to do that. I could finally animate again, as I was not drained from a long day of boring work. I could make more things for my Etsy shop. I had more time to look for jobs and write better cover letters. Of course, the market is still terrible, and I’ve had no luck, but I felt better about the jobs I did apply for. I started writing more, reworking my novel I’ve been writing since middle school. I finally got a place where I can send it to literary agents—for the second time. Again, a very difficult market, but I feel good about the place the book is at now. Most importantly, I have enough time to go to the ceramic studio.


When I was told that I make ceramic animal mugs very well, that stuck with me. I was still at work at the time, but I had looked online for affordable ceramic studio memberships. Everything in Boston is ridiculously expensive, but there was one place in Lowell that was fairly priced. It was thirty minutes away from North Andover, where I worked, and I thought I could make the balance work. Looking back now that I no longer have that job, I realize it’s a lot more time to dedicate to ceramics than I would have had time for while working full time. I did not join the studio membership right away, as I wanted to make sure I was going to get hired after my contract ended. It turns out that not being hired was exactly what I needed to go forth with the studio membership.


As I continue to create this summer, I have a goal of working part-time while focusing most of my time and energy on exploring paths and finding my potential. I want to move from Etsy to my own online store. I want to make as many tangible pieces as possible to sell at art fairs this fall. I want to submit to as many literary agents as possible. I hope to have something accomplished with a true definition of myself by the fall. I have time now. I’m going to use it to really hustle and focus on myself.



A Mindset That Applies to More Than Just Jobs


I know that my story is a very personal and specific one. I’d really like to open up about how the right mindset can help you overcome anything. Whether you’re like me and you’ve lost a job, or you’re struggling with something else, such as a relationship, a move, or regrets, just know that your thinking can help you move forward. What’s a new light or angle you haven’t considered looking at the problem in? You lost something, but what can you gain from this? Perhaps it’s a lesson that makes you stronger, wiser, or better. Maybe it’s more time. The one thing we can never get back. Maybe it’s a new and unexpected relationship.


This is not to say that whatever struggles you may have are not there. But looking at something positive, having good people who have your back, can help you see the other side of the situation. It’s the other side that we need to get to, and it’s important that it’s as accessible as possible. The other side may not be what you expect either. My thoughts were that I was just going to find another job, with little gigs in between. But I was able to look at the opportunity that was right in front of me: time. Things aren’t moving as quickly forward as I hoped, but I would gladly sacrifice that for the time I now see that I have.


From Fear to Freedom


This is not all said and done. Moving through life, whether you’re going forward quickly or staying stationary to figure things out, there are plenty of ups and downs. I try to prepare myself and keep an open mind about what may happen. However, things don’t happen when you wait. I keep my mind open, but I actively explore my options. I actively apply to jobs, actively create, and actively research. I also try to now recognize when I’m walking through peanut butter.



Goals are excellent to have, but it is incredibly freeing when you have multiple goals in several different fields of life. I have a goal of taking the summer to explore, and a goal of finding something that clicks by the fall. What that could be, is anything. Maybe I will extend my hours at the nail salon, maybe I will still work part-time, but I will be much more comfortable having an online store. Maybe my book will finally get accepted by an agent. Who knows, maybe I will still be figuring things out. That’s okay. It’s okay to forgive yourself for not meeting your goals right away. They will always be there, waiting for you when you’re ready.


Doors close all the time—and we don’t often get a say in which ones do. But it’s important to pause and reflect, look at your options. There may be a door right in front of you, which would be the obvious one. But look left and right, at the off-center doors. They might take you down a different path, and that path might be better. You get to choose which door you open next. If you’re stuck in peanut butter and feeling scared, you are not alone, just as I am not alone. Clean up that peanut butter! An ending can be hard, sticky, and scary, but the next beginning might be something better.

Carlie Malott

Rowena Poole

Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer of Moody Melon Magazine

I am a multimedia storyteller with a passion for supporting mental well-being. With a background in animation and creative writing, I use my skills to share meaningful messages that promote understanding and positive change.

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  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • May 19

People with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) often experience intense emotions, unstable relationships, and a deep fear of abandonment. Supporting someone with BPD requires patience, consistency, and a willingness to offer reassurance even when it's hard.

Don’t Leave Me: What Distance Feels Like for Someone with Borderline Personality Disorder

Imagine standing at the edge of a cliff, screaming for someone to hold your hand—but they’re just far enough away that you can’t reach them, and you're not sure if they’re walking toward you… or away. That’s what emotional distance can feel like for someone living with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).


For many, a text message left unanswered or a slight change in tone during a conversation may be brushed off as normal. But for someone with BPD, these moments can ignite a powerful storm of fear, shame, and panic. It’s not about being dramatic. It’s about living with a brain wired to expect abandonment and wired for survival.


The Abyss of Abandonment


At the heart of BPD is an intense fear of abandonment—whether real, imagined, or tiny in nature. To the outside world, it might seem irrational. But for someone with BPD, every sign of distance feels like a prelude to loss. It doesn’t matter if the other person is just busy, tired, or emotionally preoccupied—their absence can feel like a vanishing act. And when that feeling hits, it’s not just emotional. It’s physical. It can feel like free-falling in an empty room, like your chest is hollow, your breath caught somewhere between grief and terror.

This is why distance, even emotional or momentary, becomes so unbearable.



The Need for “Too Much” Reassurance


You might hear someone with BPD say things like:


  • “Are you mad at me?”

  • “Do you still love me?”

  • “You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”


It’s not manipulation—it’s self-protection. Because when your inner world is a battleground between needing closeness and fearing it will disappear, reassurance becomes a lifeline. Repeating, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” might feel excessive to some, but for someone with BPD, it’s like oxygen in an emotional blackout.


Persistence Is the Superpower


What makes the biggest difference? Consistent, compassionate presence.


Comfort that shows up over and over, even when it feels repetitive. Not perfection—just persistence. A quiet message that says, “You’re not too much. I’ll stay with you through the waves.”


Whether you're a therapist, partner, friend, or family member, your grounded presence helps rewrite the narrative. You’re offering a counter-voice to the inner scream that says, “Everyone leaves.”

Sometimes it’s not about finding the perfect thing to say. Sometimes it’s about showing up again tomorrow. And the next day.


But what if they push you away when you try again and again?


Well… try again.


If you love or care about this person deeply—even if part of you feels annoyed, frustrated, or hurt in the moment—keep showing up. That consistency, even in the face of rejection, is what's needed most. That’s what begins to undo the lifelong story of abandonment. That’s what ultimately brings you closer.



So here’s the question:


If someone’s heart is built like a room with too many exit signs, are you willing to be the person who keeps coming back in?


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  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • Apr 27

The first year after having a baby can leave couples feeling like teammates on opposite sides—but it's never too late to reconnect as a team after baby and rediscover the bond that brought you together. Sleep deprivation, stress, and shifting roles can shake any relationship, but learning to reconnect as a team after baby can turn growing pains into deeper partnership.

Finding Our Way Back: How to Reconnect as a Team After Baby

The first year after having a baby is often painted as magical, filled with soft lullabies, sweet baby giggles, and joyful family moments. But for many couples, it’s also a year of unraveling—of exhaustion, emotional disconnection, and silent resentments. When the excitement of bringing new life into the world begins to fade, many parents are left looking at each other from opposite sides of a widening emotional gap.


If you’ve felt distant from your partner since the baby arrived, you are not alone. The truth is, this season stretches even the most loving relationships. But there’s hope: with intention, grace, and a commitment to connection, couples can come back around—and come back stronger.



1. Challenges and Lack of Support Can Create Rifts


When you’re running on broken sleep and drained emotions, even the smallest misunderstanding can feel like betrayal. Suddenly, the division of chores matters more. Feeling unseen or unsupported hits deeper. The stress of keeping a tiny human alive while trying to maintain your sense of self is overwhelming—and it can leave little room for each other.


Sometimes support systems just aren’t there. Maybe family is far away. Maybe friends have faded. Or maybe you’re both just trying so hard to survive that you forgot how to lean on each other. These rifts are real—but they don’t have to be permanent.


What helps: Acknowledge the gap without blame. Say, “This year was hard on us. I miss how we used to connect. Can we start again?”


2. Challenges Reveal Flaws You Didn’t Notice Before


The postpartum period is like a spotlight—it magnifies everything. You see your partner’s flaws more clearly: their impatience, their withdrawal, their messiness or lack of emotional presence. They see yours, too. When two people are hurting, unhealed parts often rise to the surface.


It’s tempting to label these differences as incompatibility. But what if they’re actually opportunities for deeper understanding?


What helps: Instead of judging each other’s flaws, get curious about them. “You seem distant when things get chaotic. Did you experience that growing up?” Flaws often have roots—and compassion can soften their edges.


3. Childhood Trauma Can Stir Emotional Instability


Parenthood can awaken old wounds. When you're nurturing a child, it may stir memories of how you were (or weren’t) nurtured yourself. If you or your partner have unresolved childhood trauma, it may show up in this fragile phase—through control, fear, emotional withdrawal, or reactivity.


This isn’t a sign of failure. It’s a call to healing.


What helps: Don’t avoid the hard conversations. Seek help when needed—through therapy, couples counseling, or trauma-informed parenting support. Healing as individuals creates strength as a couple.



4. Choosing Connection Over Everything Else


Love isn’t just found in candlelit dinners or romantic gestures—it’s found in choosing each other, especially when it's hard. Choosing to reach for their hand instead of holding a grudge. Choosing softness instead of sarcasm. Choosing to stay curious about their inner world even when yours feels chaotic.


What helps: Create tiny rituals of connection: morning coffee together, 10-minute check-ins, walking hand in hand again. Connection doesn’t always require grand gestures—just small, consistent effort.


5. Forgive to Grow Together


You’ve both likely said things in the heat of stress. Maybe someone shut down. Maybe someone didn’t show up. Hurt accumulates in silence, and resentment builds walls fast. But forgiveness isn’t about forgetting—it’s about choosing to move forward, hand in hand.


What helps: Talk about what hurt, but don’t stop there. Ask, “What do you need from me now?” Rebuilding requires accountability, yes—but also grace.


6. The Bumps Are Meant to Grow You


No love story is free of storms. The strongest couples aren’t the ones who never fight—they’re the ones who learn how to weather the storm and grow from it. Every bump, every tearful night, every silence—these are not signs to give up. They’re lessons in how to love each other better.


You are not broken. You are becoming.


Conclusion


The first year after a baby can shake the very foundation of your relationship—but it can also be the ground from which something more beautiful is built. A deeper love. A truer friendship. A stronger team.


Because at the end of the day, the most powerful thing you can do—for your partner, your child, and yourself—is to keep reaching for each other through the chaos, and choosing to grow together.


Eye-Opening Question: If love is a daily choice, are you ready to choose each other again—this time, with eyes wide open and hands held tighter than ever before?


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