Living Like I'm Already Hired.

I'm job hunting and have been since October last year. Just recently, I’m receiving yet another job rejection email. I spend hours crafting each application and cover letter, hoping that this time, it will be different. And yet, once again, the response arrives—polite but firm, another closed door. I close my laptop gently, take a breath, and sit in the quiet.

"What now?" I whisper to God.

I’m in recovery—from a major medical journey, from burnout, from starting over in more ways than one. The job market feels like an ocean I’m treading in with no shore in sight. Some days, hope buoys me. Other days, doubt weighs heavy on my shoulders. Each morning, I wake up and face uncertainty. But even in this waiting, there’s a whisper of possibility.

One morning, as I sit in silence, something shifts. A thought settles softly in my heart: “What if I live like I’m already hired?”

It’s not about pretending or ignoring reality. It’s about choosing how I respond to it. A mindset shift. A decision to prepare, not pause.

So I begin. I get up, get dressed—not because anyone expects me to, but because I want to honour the day ahead. I open my notebook and write out my intentions. I structure my time. I dedicate parts of my day to the things I love—writing, creating, growing, reflecting.

I call it my personal business hours. From morning till early afternoon, I work. I write devotionals, rehearse songs, explore creative ideas. I read books that nourish my mind. I learn new skills. I do the work—not for applause or pay, but to stay awake and aligned.

And slowly, something changes. The waiting becomes less passive. It becomes preparation.

I start to see each day differently—not as something to endure, but something to steward. I notice the ways I am healing. I recognize that growth isn’t always measured by external milestones. It’s in the motion—in showing up, day by day, and choosing to keep going.

Some mornings, I feel unsure. Some afternoons drag. I wonder if all this effort is leading anywhere at all. But I keep showing up for myself. I remind myself that this season matters too. That my purpose isn’t on hold just because a paycheck isn’t here yet.

When I apply for roles now, I do it with presence, not pressure. I approach interviews with a quiet confidence, knowing I’ve been sharpening my gifts in the waiting. I am not stagnant. I am living in faith.

Scripture reminds me: “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."

That’s what this practice has become—a quiet act of faith. A way to lean forward, even when I can't see what’s ahead.

There’s still no formal offer in sight. But something is shifting inside me. My identity is no longer tied to the outcome of my applications. It’s rooted in something deeper—in the truth of who I am. And that frees me to show up fully, even now.

So if you’re in a similar season, I hope this meets you with gentleness. I hope it reminds you that waiting isn’t wasted. That you are still becoming. That each day holds potential, even in the quiet.

So rise. Wash your face. Write your list. Open the book. Take the walk. Say the prayer. Make the call. Build your life, piece by piece, as if the answer is already on its way.

Live like you’re already hired.

Not to rush the process. Not to impress anyone. But to remind yourself: "You are capable. you are called. And you are not alone."

Because when the door opens—and it will—you’ll already be standing.

And standing strong.