A year in hell

About a year and a half ago I had dug myself a hole. Broken equipment, car and a sprinkle of debt led me to really needing to get a full time job to get back on my feet. I managed a bar for a short time but the owners didn’t care so I left. I ended up one morning getting  a call from my stepdad offering me a job at the construction company he worked for.

I’m grateful for the opportunity, skills I learned and the owners were wonderful people. I have to be honest, our supervisor is one of the worst human beings I’ve ever met. I’ve never met such a misogynistic, homophobic, xenophobia little man in my life. Truly one of the worst human beings I’ve met.

I was miserable at this job. Something sad about working for a company where others get paid way more and have yoga breaks to watching people milk everything to get out of work. I constantly questioned either stay there and be miserable for really not that much money and not much room to be able to make more or struggle on my own trying to make it.

When I had the chance I’d take photos when I could. Around jobsites during our breaks or at lunch. It felt like it was my only escape. I quit shooting shows because I had to be at work at 6:30 or 7. I was usually too tired to edit. This was my only escape I felt I had from my depression at the time.