#working life

I wrote this song about the quiet struggle of simply trying to keep going when life keeps getting more expensive and the future doesn’t feel as certain as it once did.

We Keep Holding On follows ordinary people doing what they’ve always done — getting up, going to work, paying the bills, taking care of the people they love, and trying to make it through one more day. But underneath that routine is a question many of us have probably asked ourselves: Wasn’t there supposed to be more?

For me, the song isn’t about giving up. It’s about endurance, but also realizing that sometimes holding on isn’t enough. At some point, you may have to stop waiting for things to change and start finding your own way forward.

One more tomorrow. One more day. We keep holding on.

#WeKeepHoldingOn #WorkingLife #KeepGoing #SoftRock #SoundOMachine

STREAM OR DOWNLOAD: (Available on All Major Platforms)

🛒 Amazon Music: https://music.amazon.com/tracks/B0HCMXKBBW?marketplaceId=ATVPDKIKX0DER&musicTerritory=US&ref=dm_sh_4A8Rt5UBo8YuCZ3GNKzbZwEAd

🍎 Apple Music/ iTunes: https://music.apple.com/us/song/we-keep-holding-on/6797369055

🟢 Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/5Yx555YNdZLhvVermoRL3m?si=fd06362378cd46c4

========= LYRICS: 📜

[Verse 1] Six a.m., the alarm cuts through the dark Coffee's on before the morning starts The dog's waiting by the kitchen door Bills still lying where they were before

Kiss my wife, grab my worn-out coat Another sunrise, another road

[Pre-Chorus] I keep telling myself it'll all work out Some days… I don't know how

[Chorus] They say don't worry They say we'll be fine I've watched dreams fade away As paychecks buy less each time

We keep holding on One more day Like we always do We keep holding on For one more tomorrow

[Verse 2] Traffic crawling through the morning light Someone's sleeping in their car tonight Betty asked for extra hours again She's seventy-one

Still, I wonder… Wasn't there supposed to be more?

[Pre-Chorus] The news says better days are close at hand But that's not always what I understand

[Chorus] They say don't worry They say we'll be fine I've watched dreams fade away As paychecks buy less each time

We keep holding on One more day Like we always do We keep holding on For one more tomorrow

[Bridge] I've waited long enough For the promised dream Now it's time to wake up And make my own way

[Final Chorus]

They say don't worry They say we'll be fine I've watched dreams fade away As paychecks buy less each time

We keep holding on One more day Like we always do We keep holding on For one more tomorrow

[Outro] Six a.m. Here we go again

“I want you to have this.”

I glance down at the five-dollar bill one of my coworkers stuffs into my hand.

“What for?” I ask, confused and wondering who she wants me to give the cash to.

She’s already halfway out the door before she answers.

“I see how hard you work, and I appreciate it.”

Dazed, I look back at my other coworkers and managers, who are smiling back at me. I stumble over to one of the expos, who, to my knowledge, hates my very existence, awkwardly handing them the bill.

“Do I give this to you?” I ask. There’s simply no way somebody meant to give this to me.

A hand lands on my shoulder, steadying me. “No, honey. You put that in your pocket. You’ve earned it.”

After weeks of awkward small talk, blunt orders thrown my way, and demands that felt too heavy for even a food runner to carry, I had already reached a seemingly obvious conclusion: I simply don’t belong.

As I watched others laugh, dance, and tell inside jokes and stories that reminded me how new I still was, I often wondered, “What am I doing wrong?”

I tried to initiate conversations. I did everything my coworkers, managers, and customers asked of me. I stayed late whenever I could and tried to make life easier for the next person.

So why am I still watching from afar?

I’m brought back to one of my very first shifts. An expo whose name I hadn’t even gotten the chance to learn called my name and beckoned me over with a commanding hand.

It had been a hectic Saturday night, and anybody in their right mind would have wondered why anyone chose to work this job.

“Jocelyn.”

I trotted over to her naively, clearly misreading the situation. “Yes?”

“Do you know where the grill is?” She suddenly leaned in close.

Of course I do! It’s right outside. “Mhm!” Oh, I was so happy to prove useful!

“Then go there when I tell you to.” She growled through gritted teeth.

Well, that wasn’t what I expected.

But I did go to the grill! The plates were right there! Delicious kabobs and a meaty half-rack were sitting right in front of her, fresh from the grill.

Yet, believing I had done nothing wrong, I had no will to argue. My only instinct was to please.

“O-okay.” I stumbled over my words, glancing to the side and retreating to my tiny corner in the kitchen.

Unfortunately, that first interaction became the lens through which I viewed everything she did.

From then on, she felt like a fireball, ready to burn away any confidence I had.

Any question I had was brushed off or met with a very long eye roll.

“But this is-”

“Does it have a ticket?” She spoke sharply.

“N-no, but this is-” I almost whimpered.

“Run this. NOW.”

If I ever got in her way,

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I cried, apologizing over and over, desperate to prove I wasn’t a burden.

And for a while, that’s all I saw. Every sharp command became proof. Every eye roll became another piece of evidence. I had already decided what she thought of me, so everything she did only served as confirmation.

But the funny thing about assumptions is they tend to only show you what you are looking for.

I don’t remember the exact moment I stopped seeing her as someone expecting me to fail. There wasn’t any big conversation or apology. She didn’t suddenly become a different person. I just slowly started noticing that maybe she wasn’t angry at me; maybe she was simply a blunt person working in a chaotic environment.

I never had a moment when everyone suddenly welcomed me with open arms. There was no grand shift where I became the center of every conversation or instantly felt like I belonged.

Instead, it happened slowly, barely noticeably.

A lineman went out of his way to say good morning to me. People asked me questions back for the first time. Another lineman gave me one of his raw cookie dough pieces. A coworker showed me the secret spot in the walk-in when the heat becomes unbearable.

And maybe that was the hardest part to admit: I wasn’t invisible. I was just so convinced I was unwanted that I stopped looking for the ways people showed they cared.

That five-dollar bill wasn’t just five dollars. It was a reminder that the version of myself I had created, the new girl nobody wanted around, the person always one mistake away from being a burden, was never the complete story.

Sometimes, we are so busy waiting to be rejected that we turn away when someone is already reaching out their hand.

And sometimes, belonging doesn’t come from everyone suddenly making space for you.

So, sometime last week, the office dishwasher stopped working. The long-suffering receptionist (who often ends up emptying it, despite that NOT being in her job description) put up a notice telling people to do their own dishes. Then another one. Today, a third.

In an attempt to cheer her up, I made the DW meme above. She loved it so much that she asked for more.

I work to live, I don’t live to work. I could be at some huge prestigious law firm killing myself with work and leaving at 8 p.m. when I’m supposedly meant to finish at 6, but I don’t do that. I start work on time and I leave on time. My workday ends at 6 p.m., and outside of my working hours I don’t want to know anything about it.