I'll be 31 years old in less than a month, and I feel like each year gets a little bit more difficult. I mean, I don't feel that old, but like, if I died in a really cool way, the news would report it as "A 31 year-old woman died after tripping over her dog on the stairs and was impaled by a trekking pole her boyfriend left out in the hallway below." 31 years is a long time. We were talking about it a little at my friend's bachelorette party the other night, and while it seems like it's taken forever to get to 30, I feel like I was just in high school last year, the memories are so vivid.
I think where I struggle the most is that I thought that by now I'd be a more successful adult. I thought I'd have started my career, or that I'd still be in grad school working on some doctorate of some kind. I hoped I'd have my own home by now, maybe be married, maybe have a kid or two. I never thought I'd be getting fired for the fourth time in my life, considering filing for bankruptcy and applying for disability. I'm on Medicaid. I live below the poverty line because I can't work a full-time job since my mood disorder(s) make it really hard some days just to get out of bed, let alone get ready for work and be on my game for 8 hours each day, 5 days a week.
A couple of weeks ago, I had a meeting with my supervisors and they told me that it's time for me to leave this job. I didn't argue with them, because I've been looking for a new job since roughly April of this year, but with no luck. I haven't kept it secret that I'm looking for other work, either, and that hasn't seemed to be a problem. They know that I'm too smart for a job like this, and that I need to be challenged in order to keep coming to work.
The problem isn't my performance (despite my accidentally calling a client's patient an idiot under my breath on the phone, and he heard me), it's my attitude, my mood and my behavior as a result of those things. I think I got called in for the meeting on a Tuesday, because the previous day I'd seen my therapist and I'd told her how miserable I am at work. We decided that my only real option was to practice "acceptance" of how things are for me at work, and I resolved to put that into practice the next day. And then they told me that I need to leave. They didn't say "You need to leave," they said, "It's time." Which I assume means I'm overstaying my welcome at this point. They're sick of me. They said I could stay as long as I needed to, but they put the ad out on Craigslist for my replacement that day, and a person was hired about a week and a half later. At this point, I don't know how much longer I'm staying at this job, but I sure as hell don't have a new job yet.
I've been applying for job after job after job. The only jobs that I've gotten calls on are the jobs that I have already done, and that I don't wish to continue to do. Real estate receptionist, front desk receptionist, administrative assistant, data entry clerk. Any job that I've applied for that actually sounds the least bit interesting to me, I have either heard nothing on, or received an email saying that they appreciate my applying but someone more qualified has been hired for that position. My degrees are literally a $30-something thousand dollar piece of paper. I can't even get copies of my official transcript because I owe CU Denver $10K from registering for a semester of grad school and then having a complete mental breakdown.
It's really frustrating and discouraging to try so hard and not get much out of it. All I need is for someone, somewhere, to just give me a chance. I blew my last chance when I actually got the internship with the Denver Coroner's Office, but wasn't in school. I had to apply for school, enroll in school, and start school with a schedule that worked around my work schedule, and by the time I did that, the internship was no longer available. I feel like that was my one chance.
But here's the thing: I'm not really complaining. For the most part, I'm happy with my life. Honestly, having a job that I want - career that I'm passionate about - would pretty much be the icing on the cake. Everything else in my life is quite lovely. I have pets, which make my life sooooo much more worth living. I have a pretty decent support system. I've actually been taking care of myself, which is actually exceedingly more difficult than it was 10 years ago. I live in a beautiful place. I have a partner that has changed my life in ways I never thought possible. I have a supportive family.
On that note - I think I really don't like all the time it takes for me to make sure that I'm healthy. I have to wear sunscreen every day if I don't want to look like a shriveled peach within the next 10 years. I have to put on face cream each night to attempt to make the wrinkles I do have disappear. I have to wear lotion. I have to floss my teeth. I have to take vitamins and supplements in addition to the medication I already take. I have to exercise! I have to cut out the really-yummy-but-not-so-healthy food I love to eat if I don't want to weight a couple of tons. In fact, I have to exercise just to maintain my weight WHILE eating healthy if I don't want to put on weight because of the hormonal cocktail that's ever-changing in my body. I have to see my doctors and get blood work done regularly. I have to see my therapist and psychiatrist regularly. The only thing I refuse to give up entirely is drinking, though I've been told that sobering up (and going to AA) might really help me. At least I'm trying to help myself in other ways.
Why am I working so hard to take care of myself all of a sudden, you ask? Because I've just recently discovered that I am terrified of getting old. I don't mean getting older, I mean old. I'm talking Velcro shoes, cane, white hair and thick glasses old. I don't ever want to be hard of hearing, or lose my skills of observation, or stop caring about how I look or how long it takes me to do something. I don't want to get crotchety. I don't want to take forever and a day to tell a story. I don't want to repeat the same stories I've already told. I'm fine getting old as long as I am still me, upstairs.
Well, those are the things that have been revolving inside my brain these days.
I think where I struggle the most is that I thought that by now I'd be a more successful adult. I thought I'd have started my career, or that I'd still be in grad school working on some doctorate of some kind. I hoped I'd have my own home by now, maybe be married, maybe have a kid or two. I never thought I'd be getting fired for the fourth time in my life, considering filing for bankruptcy and applying for disability. I'm on Medicaid. I live below the poverty line because I can't work a full-time job since my mood disorder(s) make it really hard some days just to get out of bed, let alone get ready for work and be on my game for 8 hours each day, 5 days a week.
A couple of weeks ago, I had a meeting with my supervisors and they told me that it's time for me to leave this job. I didn't argue with them, because I've been looking for a new job since roughly April of this year, but with no luck. I haven't kept it secret that I'm looking for other work, either, and that hasn't seemed to be a problem. They know that I'm too smart for a job like this, and that I need to be challenged in order to keep coming to work.
The problem isn't my performance (despite my accidentally calling a client's patient an idiot under my breath on the phone, and he heard me), it's my attitude, my mood and my behavior as a result of those things. I think I got called in for the meeting on a Tuesday, because the previous day I'd seen my therapist and I'd told her how miserable I am at work. We decided that my only real option was to practice "acceptance" of how things are for me at work, and I resolved to put that into practice the next day. And then they told me that I need to leave. They didn't say "You need to leave," they said, "It's time." Which I assume means I'm overstaying my welcome at this point. They're sick of me. They said I could stay as long as I needed to, but they put the ad out on Craigslist for my replacement that day, and a person was hired about a week and a half later. At this point, I don't know how much longer I'm staying at this job, but I sure as hell don't have a new job yet.
I've been applying for job after job after job. The only jobs that I've gotten calls on are the jobs that I have already done, and that I don't wish to continue to do. Real estate receptionist, front desk receptionist, administrative assistant, data entry clerk. Any job that I've applied for that actually sounds the least bit interesting to me, I have either heard nothing on, or received an email saying that they appreciate my applying but someone more qualified has been hired for that position. My degrees are literally a $30-something thousand dollar piece of paper. I can't even get copies of my official transcript because I owe CU Denver $10K from registering for a semester of grad school and then having a complete mental breakdown.
It's really frustrating and discouraging to try so hard and not get much out of it. All I need is for someone, somewhere, to just give me a chance. I blew my last chance when I actually got the internship with the Denver Coroner's Office, but wasn't in school. I had to apply for school, enroll in school, and start school with a schedule that worked around my work schedule, and by the time I did that, the internship was no longer available. I feel like that was my one chance.
But here's the thing: I'm not really complaining. For the most part, I'm happy with my life. Honestly, having a job that I want - career that I'm passionate about - would pretty much be the icing on the cake. Everything else in my life is quite lovely. I have pets, which make my life sooooo much more worth living. I have a pretty decent support system. I've actually been taking care of myself, which is actually exceedingly more difficult than it was 10 years ago. I live in a beautiful place. I have a partner that has changed my life in ways I never thought possible. I have a supportive family.
On that note - I think I really don't like all the time it takes for me to make sure that I'm healthy. I have to wear sunscreen every day if I don't want to look like a shriveled peach within the next 10 years. I have to put on face cream each night to attempt to make the wrinkles I do have disappear. I have to wear lotion. I have to floss my teeth. I have to take vitamins and supplements in addition to the medication I already take. I have to exercise! I have to cut out the really-yummy-but-not-so-healthy food I love to eat if I don't want to weight a couple of tons. In fact, I have to exercise just to maintain my weight WHILE eating healthy if I don't want to put on weight because of the hormonal cocktail that's ever-changing in my body. I have to see my doctors and get blood work done regularly. I have to see my therapist and psychiatrist regularly. The only thing I refuse to give up entirely is drinking, though I've been told that sobering up (and going to AA) might really help me. At least I'm trying to help myself in other ways.
Why am I working so hard to take care of myself all of a sudden, you ask? Because I've just recently discovered that I am terrified of getting old. I don't mean getting older, I mean old. I'm talking Velcro shoes, cane, white hair and thick glasses old. I don't ever want to be hard of hearing, or lose my skills of observation, or stop caring about how I look or how long it takes me to do something. I don't want to get crotchety. I don't want to take forever and a day to tell a story. I don't want to repeat the same stories I've already told. I'm fine getting old as long as I am still me, upstairs.
Well, those are the things that have been revolving inside my brain these days.
