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I start the day, every day the same way here lately.
I go to my e-mail to see any new job postings.
I go and look through the job postings.
Apply for the ones that at this point I'm almost positive that I can do.
I search job boards.
Read articles that I think will help.
Get angry because after a few hours it all looks the same.
Get frustrated because I'm not hearing back concerning any of the applications with resumes that I've sent out.
Feel like a failure because I haven't found a job yet.
Think about the following:
loosing everything because I have no way to pay the bills.
Talking myself out of thoughts of sucide.
Reading about other people's problems to remind myself that I only have a certian amount of problems to deal with.
Going back to school.
Then I go back to searching the job boards, getting into my e-mail and looking some more, the thought is that maybe in my hazy state of mind I've missed something.
I realized somewhere I am fast becomming an expert on on not finding a job.
I fight back tears of anger and frustration. I get so sick of going through this routine day in and day out.
I have no energy anymore.
I hesitate calling anyone because they don't need my garbage with all of this. They have a life and problems of their own.
I hate being so needy.
I've read so many articles on how to do this and how to do that my head is swimming with weird immages of things.
Everything from sliding down wells with walls that are covered in lettered tiles to strange immages of the artic and people dressed in neon parkas that look at me as that pass me by while mumbling incoherent things.
I'm having bouts of insomina now that come several times a week.
I'm asking people if they know anyone who is hiring. Which is comical and redundant because of how many job boards and want adds I read every day.
I try to brain storm to come up with ideas and my head hurts because of the lack of ideas.
I've come to the conclusion that this time that I've been doing this ranks among the worst times I've ever had.
I am greatful for the following things:
That I'm not an alcholoic.
That I don't use illegal drugs.
That I don't self injure.
That I don't have a shopping addiction.
That would make all of this so much worse.
My second list of things I'm greatful for:
That my kids and my mom are doing well.
That I have a roof over my head.
That I have food in the cupbords.
That my bills are up to date.
That I'm not in a wheel chair.
That the cronic pain I live with is mild compared to what it could be.
That I can still feel anything at all.
That I have this sense of peace inside inspite of all the frustration I'm experiencing right now.
It doesn't really matter what order the lists happened. The things that showed up first and made up the first list are just what happened to be first in my head is all.
Now I'm giving explainations and for what? I've spent so much time filling out applications that now I'm explaining things.
How the two are connected is beyond me.
Anyway, this has gotten so bad now that I'm just sick of it all.
I'm sick of needing a job, knowing that I will work hard at any job I get and not getting a chance to do that.
I'm sick of feeling invisible. I'm sick of feeling like I'm loosing my mind at the end of the day.
I'm sick of feeling like a failure and a waste of life.
There's one thing that none of this has changed, and that's my ablity to be honest. At least that's real. With all the fire of testing that's gone through, it's survived and it's real.
My honey has tried to help. But his version of support is from a minimalist place. He doesn't really know or doesn't want to, either one works, how to be supportive.
So that makes me feel very much like I'm all alone in this struggle and that at any moment he could decide to walk out on me.
Even though I am pretty sure he wouldn't because he doesn't want to be alone, so staying with me is better than being by himself.
I wish sometimes he would take on the big strong man role and tell me everything is going to be fine, that he would make sure that it would be fine and do everything to mean it.
But he won't.
So in reality I am alone in this. And somewhere I need to find the strength and determination to suceed inspite of repeated running into brick walls and repeated failures.
And this is only tuesday. By this next weekend if I haven't found a job and if I haven't figured out how to rise above all of this I will feel worse than I do today. I seriously need a break today, but it's after 12 noon and it doesn't look like I'm going to get one before evening gets here.
Ah well, at least the sun is shining outside.
This post was edited by harold_maude on Sep 29, 2009.
I was reading last night. It was a debate/discussion between several people about lables.
I got weary of reading people's defense of their rightness.
I thought about joining the discussion and then I changed my mind.
A couple of good reasons not to get involved in the middle of a heated discussion trying to figure out who is actually right is that when you jump in the middle and tell them all that they are all wrong because what do we know anyway, is lible to get you punched in the face by some twit.
The other reason is that when a person is so convinced they are right, they arn't going to listen to reason or anything else for that matter.
So I quitely backed away, but I really wanted to jump in and tell them they were twits for being so right wing about their need to be right.
How can a person learn and grow if they are completely right?
That's the question that keeps poking at me.
I may know stuff and have a pretty good handle on a few things simply because the amount of time I've been on the planet has afforded me a bit more extensive experience with a few things than someone who has been on the planet for less number of years.
But by no means do I know enough to be right or to feel that I have a right to proclaim rightness.
That sounded like a tounge twister in the making.
Anyway, when I hear people going off about they know the right truth I tend to back away. They arn't worth stopping to see what they have to say.
I spent too many years listening to preachers who were so convinced they knew the real "truth" when in fact behind closed doors they were just as weird as the rest of us.
Arrogant assumptions is what I was in reality listening to via reading last night. People ready to bash each other over the head to prove their rightness.
Silly humans anyway.
It's quiet. I'm up and the cat and my honey are still asleep.
I woke up because I'd had enough of the dream I was having. I do that sometimes. Especially when the dream is that strange.
This one was. I dreampt I was working in a pearl factory and my job was measuring the pearls with sewing thread.
The room I was sitting had bad lighting, vencian blinds and a table lamp equiped with a really dim bulb.
I tried telling the manager that they measured pearls with a caliper tool not with sewing thread, but he just stood there yelling at me in a language I couldn't understand.
It was like this really bad cartoon. I realized I was dreaming because they kept dumping buckets of pearls on the table and they were falling all over the place, on the floor, in the muffin tins full of pearls that I had already tried to measure and it occured to me that I was asleep and dreaming. That's when I decited I'd had enough and woke up.
I try to keep track of my dreams because I believe when there are things going on that need answers dreams can help because I really believe that they can show things that might not be able to be understood while we're awake because our head is on over load.
I'm not quite awake. I'm glad that it's sunday and tomorrow is labor day because it means that at least for today I don't have to think about finding a job.
Today will be a mundane day because I've got dishes waiting for me, and cleaning.
When I look at my mountian of art supplies and think of how beaten up my mind is and has been for the last few years because of the act of trying to survive, I wonder what I was thinking.
I have a great talent for purchasing over abundance in preperation for the time when I'm living on an island and can't get to the store to buy supplies.
I'm a pack rat. There are no two ways about it, but I come by it honestly. There is a long and glorious history of pack rats in my family tree.
I had this aunt who had a thing about paper products, toilet paper and paper towels.
Attached to her house was this enclosed front porch, a wonderful room, so I've been told, that a person could sit in on any given summer day and just enjoy the outdoors without the company of flying insects.
The problem was that my dear aunt had filled the room with packages of toilet paper and paper towels that she had gotten ever time there was a sale.
I am sure that came from the fear of not having any. A problem that arose from the fact that when she was a kid they lived in a two room house and they were really poor.
Being wise with money ment to her that when there were sales on practicle things, you stocked up.
She took that to heart. When she passed away I wonder what they did with all that stuff.
I suspect her kids didn't have to buy toilet paper for a long, long time.
She is just one of my relatives who had a nack for being a pack rat.
I've known other pack rats who I am not related to. The guy who had a thing about news papers. He's got this room in his basement that is completely finished and it's so full, or it was the last time I was there, that you couldn't hardly get the door open.
I remember trying to open the door to look in but there is just enough room for a really skinny person to slide by and after that, there ain't much standing room.
I know one family who have mini halls through boxes through out the whole house.
They do have furniture, but it's burried under all the stuff that was a good deal over the years. After awhile a good deal becomes bad when it takes up more room in the house than you leave yourself to live in.
It's in the bathroom at that house too. They have to take several boxes out of the tub to use it. That's how packed this house is. When I first went into the house I was overwhelmed by all the stuff. It does flow out the front and back door and into the yard as well.
I mentioned to someone that these people need to go into the junk business. Get one of thoes long portable white sheds that farmers put several large tractors in, and these people would have no problem filling it up.
Then at least they could use their house.
The kitchen of this place is pretty amazing. There is one wall that serves as a pantry of sorts. It's over loaded like the rest of the house with canned goods. I'm sure there are several cans that need to be disgarded because they have rust on the top and sides.
I'd call them antiques.
The woman has several sets of china and thoes are mixed in with the dirty dishes that fill the counters and both sinks. The microwave is visible but the top is burried under stuff too.
The cupboards over flow with dishes and good deals from grocery shopping.
I've heard stories about all the antiques these folks have, but unfortunately they cannot remember where the antiques are under all the other good deals they kept finding.
When I think about them, which I have been this morning, de-junking my house seems like a wonderful idea. I don't want to be viewed as the crazy lady who filled her house so full that there was no where to sit, so she had to buy another house to live in and went nuts and filled that one up too.
There is a problem when two people live together who are both pack rats. My honey collects electronic stuff. We have parts and peices of torn up computers, and at the moment I think we have at least 4 computers in the house. They all work, but we only use this one.
I have my art supplies which include a large fabric stash because I enjoy sewing as well as making beaded jewerly. The problem is that all of this stuff we have would be better suited to a house at least 3 times as big as the one we have now. It's little more than the the size of a long bed on an semitruck.
It was what was affordable at the time and now several years later the idea of moviing is somewhat of a nightmear.
I have thought of just getting a shovel.
I didn't plan on living like this. I'm just as bad as thoes people who live in residence with their stuff, and the stuff owns the house.
I have quite buying and have quite going to thrift stores.
So maybe I'm actually smarter than thoes people.
I hope so. Now if I can just bring myself to start getting rid of the good deals that I've spent way to much money on without beating myself up along the way for spending all that money collectively then I think I'll be ahead some how...
There have been some weird times in my life. Things that I still cannot explain.
Like the month that started with waking up one morning and feeling dead. Not sad, not broken, but dead. I could feel my skin, and see myself in a mirror, but I was quite sure I was dead.
Now this weird feeling of feeling absoult nothing, with one slight problem is that it made me feel that somewhere along the way durring the night the process of complete death just got put on pause so in the morning I woke up still living but for all intent and purpose dead too.
About three weeks into this I finally decited that I needed to complete the process as it was becomming rather annoying.
When I started making arrangements, lists of what was going to who and trying to find someone who would be willing to sell me a large quanity of sleeping pills, the shift happened, and it was like life started up again.
That was just one instance of weirdness in my life, but it's relevant to what I've been experiencing lately.
For a while now I've had the oddest sensation inspite of the class crap and all that, that I could very well be an illusion.
Or becomming invisible.
Now before any one suggests a visit to the nearest head shrinker, there are several facts that could support this weirdness going on.
I'll talk to people and it's as if they can't hear me speaking, so I will talk louder and it doesn't help.
I try to call people who I talk to on a regular basis and leave messages and the messages never get through.
I walk by people and it's as if they can see right through me.
It has this weird feel to it as well.
I've had this blank feeling for a while. It's hard to explain, except for this, it feels like I've been sucked through a long tube out into space somewhere.
I'm completely sober by the way. And as to drugs, well they arn't part of my world, so that rules side effects out.
I know that there are times that people do see me, because they will look right at me, and often smile when they do.
And there are people who at times I do manage to be able to talk to.
This has been getting pretty weird lately and after the last couple of days of feeling this blankness, the thought crossed my mind as weird and odd as it is, that maybe I'm becomming invisible.
I think that's why I'm writing this, to prove to myself that I'm real and not just some illusion that fades in and out.
I have questioned my sanity as well here, and the funny thing is that aside from the feeling parts of it, I'm completely calm, I'm not scared or wanting to lock my doors because something out there may be trying to get me, it's also got this strange normalcy to it.
Now I know that there are people who don't and wouldn't notice me no matter what anyway, but that's not part of this weirdness going on.
I'm talking like in the grocery store, where I can be standing in an isle and someone turns the coner with a basket and heads straight for me and I'll look at them and they have this weird look on their face like they can't see me, until they are almost on top of me so to speak, then they can see me and swerve out of the way. I've thought maybe they just have bad eyesite, but it's happened several times and it's people of different ages, so that's why I began wondering if I'm going invisible sometimes.
I have no real idea of what is going on, but it's weird. It's things like this and other times of my life that make me wonder about stuff. Things like this send me on searches to see if anyone else on the planet has had the same experiences I have so maybe I can get their take on all of this.
Sometimes when I lay all the events that I can't explain side by side it really makes me wonder what all of it means.
I know I often feel like I don't belong here. I don't feel bad about it, it just feels matter of fact.
Like the sky is blue kind of thing.
Since this is going on right now, this weird feeling of not really being here, I feel pretty safe in writing about this because I'm pretty sure it will go unotiiced, so it's safe here.
This is my bat cave after all.
If someone does read this, you should note that I do not walk around talking to myself, or wear tinfoil or fear that the aliens are comming to get me.
I have, however seen alot of strange things over the years, and generally tell no one when it's happening, due to not wanting to be dragged off to some instution for being mad as a march hare.
It's just my life. It's my norm, and outside of the strange things that happen I live my life same as everyone else.
That having been said, I have tried going into meditation to center myself because it occured to me that these feelings here lately could be related to menapause.
I'm trying to cover all possiblities here. If it is menapause, it will stop at some point, if it isn't it will keep going until it's done, like being dead and walking around.
Through every type of event like this in my life, I have wished for one thing, that I could find someone who had experienced the same thing so I could talk to them about it.
But through all these events there hasn't been anyone who can relate.
I've wondered if all of this, all my life has been just one very long and very vivid dream that I've been having. That thought has crossed my mind so many times. Maybe that's why I keep so many journals, to prove to myself that I'm real and I'm awake.
Well, I should have known. This job is over. I failed to have a high enough test score avarage to graduate from the class and get the job.
Oh boo hoo hoo. I'm not broken hearted, just pissed off.
I feel like I wasted three weeks of my life trying to wade through stuff that had nothing to do with the job, takes tests on said crap, get low scores because the test questions were confusing as crap.
So now I am in a place that I need to figure out what to do next. This place suckith.
But at the same time I'm glad that the job failed, it would have been like having a leash around my neck all the time.
These last three weeks killed my confidence, made me feel like an idiot and now I have to fix that shit and there is no time.
Where the fuck is my fairy godmother to tell me what is next on an ever growing list of disapointing jobs that are filled with hours of me trying to do what is expected and failing, repeatedly.
Deep sigh. I'm greatful that I'm not prone to give into the thoughts of blowing my brains out after so many failures.
Oh well if the goverment has it's way in a couple of months they will vaccinate the population with toxic vaccine and thoes who refuse will be hauled off to fema camps to be held for what is most likely an indefinate amount of time.
Oh yea....so the choice is rather simple, do I choose the vaccine that will most likely kill me or go to an internment camp where I will probably die....choices and decisions, so what's a body to do anyway?
The honest truth at this point is that I don't really care anymore. I'm tired of taking jobs that make me suffer in exchange for next to nothing. I'm tired of doing everything right and trying and failing. I'm tired of trying period.
I got nothing left to try with anymore.
Funny thing is about all of this, that it's ok. Death is a normal part of life. And life should be good at some point, at some point there should be times of freedom from pain, freedom from suffering...you would think anyway.
I'm tired of physically hurting all day. I'm tired of waking up in the morning and struggling to stand or do because the pain is everywhere.
I'm tired of fucking up ever time I turn around.
So what does it really matter anyway?
I can't think of one positive argument to change my thoughts or one positive argument to make hope raise from the dead...
not a single, solitry one.