Monday at the end of February
Well, here we are…end of February ish. I feel blank today, inside. Blank is a good word for it too…I’m not feeling anything but the clean, white, unmarked inside of a blank greeting card. The picture on the outside seems cheery enough but inside? Blank. If I fish around in there I can find little panic minnows and anxiety tadpoles grumbling their toxic thoughts but I can ignore them well, for weeks if I have to, not that it will help much in the long run but it feels like some sort of control, and I’ll take it no questions asked.
I slept most of the weekend and then didn’t sleep last night so later today I’m gonna be one tired me. I’ve brought several cans of Pepsi along with a bottle of ginger to keep me from throwing the sugar and water up after it goes down. Hopefully, some of that will keep me going.
*Stares blankly at the keyboard* I just have nothing good or upbeat to say. It’s Monday, I’m tired, my body hurts an awful lot today, I’m hunched over and breathing in uneven jags at odd angles to cause the softest pain possible. I am hungry but the acid in my stomach is already winning that battle and I have a headache sitting behind my eyes. It’s been there for eight days and counting. Last night, at some point, I took a double dose of Targin, double Cyclo and four advil migraine liquid gels. I slept for four hours without waking and now here I am feeling quite the same, only more tired.
I really want to look into some writing jobs..from home. There has to be somewhere I can do that and tender jobs…bid somehow. I keep finding get rich quick schemes but i’m looking for something a bit more stable and predictable that doesn’t involve trying to get my friends to sign up for a membership to somewhere. I mean, I’d love to sit at home and write the next great North American novel but I need to be honest with myself there…I’m sure that a million other people are wanting to do the same and there’s only a slim chance of success. It feels like saying, “Okay, then maybe I’ll just be a rock star…” I need to make money for my family. A good amount of money if I’m going to have to take a job that’s way below my current salary.
No interviews by the way. I’ve applied for several jobs…four at the other hospital, five at this one, three at the university. Not a whisper from the other hospital, and the ones I applied for here are all not suited to me. I need a different degree or a masters for some of these stupid jobs (why, exactly, does an IT tech need a computer sciences degree? sheesh). Some I applied for anyway but I don’t expect that to go very far. I feel very backed into a corner here. I feel guilt that I’m the one who is going to make our family financially suffer this time and it’s not for a short layover; it might be for good. I’ve never felt so out of control and frightened. I need this…no wait, I EARNED this security. I worked my fucking ass off for it and now it’s just slipping away from me. What in the world am I going to do?
Depression? I don’t think so. Fear, definitely.
Oh and I’m blowing friendships left right and centre these days. People who love me are being somewhat cut out as I spent all my time desperately clinging to this rotten job, breathing through pain, trying hard to forget or at least ignore. I fight hard, even now, ignoring a burning pain in my hips, rib cage, sternum, shoulders, arms, neck and mid to upper spine. (and head, and face, and jaw and and and…) 😦 I feel pretty lost. I can’t talk to anyone though because after a few words the shit all starts to spill out and I can’t stop it. There’s this little mantra running in the background telling me I’m fucked. I screwed it all up. I couldn’t be what they wanted so they took everything away from me. My hard work, the time I put in, the bullshit I’ve put up with. Makes me so…angry. Having to come here day after day is even worse. This morning I would have rather done anything over coming to this office to listen to my colleagues titter about their awesome weekends full of shopping and spending and redecorating their houses. I kind of want to throw up when I hear them.
“Do you assholes not realize that if I lose this job I’ll be homeless? I’ll have to move my disabled son to the worst area of town so we can afford the cockroach infested apartments and then what? Welfare? Ooh woopsie…you have a spouse who makes just above minimum wageeee…disqualified!
Why would anyone want to live like this? Sometimes I wish my foster family had just killed me and stuffed me in the back yard under a rose bush. Would have saved everyone a hell of a lot of time and guilt. (Ha! What guilt? I’m the only one who feels guilt around here, I think).
I want to be happy. I want to be upbeat and positive. I also want to go back to sleep and not wake up for a while.