Saturday, July 23, 2005
She Falls Apart in the Avalanche
I have a rather lengthy string of explitives running through my head at the moment. Real words are totally unable express the feelings spewing from my gut, so I've had to resort to the four-letter variety.
My job is gone. Not utterly and completely as I still have some options open to me at my current employer, but the position I've held for the past nine months failed to gain renewal a few weeks ago. I received the awful news on an already diffult Monday and took everything in tremendous stride. Barely any tears and an upbeat proposal from my boss made the news easier to take, especially the bit where I was told that everyone else on the project was renewed except for me. Ouch. Apparently, my efforts were not enough to entice the contractors to keep their current funding level going into the new year. Instead they've sliced the budget in half and decided that two people are more than enough to cover the state. I can't say I was taken completely by surprise, it seemed to go right along with the fact that every other aspect of my personal life has gone to total shit as well.
I wish I had some cool story to tell about my loss of gainful employment, like I got "dooced" or told off my boss in some Norma Rae type fashion. But, the simple truth is that I got screwed. Hard. In the a-s-s.
I'm a hard worker, I'm very good at what I do, but for some reason, this whole job/grown-up/responsible member of society thing has proven to be quite impossible to navigate successfully. My father has been at the same job for 15 years, my mother is reaching the ten year mark with her employer. I, on the other hand, have not been able to hold onto a paycheck for even a year at a time. What does this say about me? Maybe that I'm meant to marry rich and shop all day, maybe these employers are intimidated by my incredible beauty and ridiculous charm. Whatever the problem, I'd like to get it resolved ASAP so that I can continue to set city-wide fashion trends and have a car to terrorize fellow drivers. I have becomed very accustomed to the roof over my messy head and the ability to pay for the few meals I manage to eat a week. Losing these rather material things would devastate me, but not nearly as much as packing it up and moving back to my parent's home, defeated and completely embarrassed. So far, this is not even close to becoming an option (Thank GOD) but the way things have played out to this point, I may be closer to this than I want to accept.
Don't get me wrong, I love my parents. I do. But their house is no longer my home. My home is the two-bedroom apartment in the sleepy riverside community with the gorgeous hardwood floors currently smothered in piles of clothes needing to be laundered. My home is the city with its four malls and five Targets and the church filled with people who truly, truly care for me. I love this city, these people, these floors. I know I haven't written much about my time here and what little I did pen seems to be somewhat negative. The truth is that I have spent the last nine months falling in love with this town and the fantastic life provided for me here. And though it seems as though that life is crumbling to bits around me now, I wouldn't take a single second back. Not one.
Now that life has to go on, move forward, even if just one second at a time. Looking too far ahead of that knocks the wind right out of me. So, one second at a time. That's manageable, right?
#
My job is gone. Not utterly and completely as I still have some options open to me at my current employer, but the position I've held for the past nine months failed to gain renewal a few weeks ago. I received the awful news on an already diffult Monday and took everything in tremendous stride. Barely any tears and an upbeat proposal from my boss made the news easier to take, especially the bit where I was told that everyone else on the project was renewed except for me. Ouch. Apparently, my efforts were not enough to entice the contractors to keep their current funding level going into the new year. Instead they've sliced the budget in half and decided that two people are more than enough to cover the state. I can't say I was taken completely by surprise, it seemed to go right along with the fact that every other aspect of my personal life has gone to total shit as well.
I wish I had some cool story to tell about my loss of gainful employment, like I got "dooced" or told off my boss in some Norma Rae type fashion. But, the simple truth is that I got screwed. Hard. In the a-s-s.
I'm a hard worker, I'm very good at what I do, but for some reason, this whole job/grown-up/responsible member of society thing has proven to be quite impossible to navigate successfully. My father has been at the same job for 15 years, my mother is reaching the ten year mark with her employer. I, on the other hand, have not been able to hold onto a paycheck for even a year at a time. What does this say about me? Maybe that I'm meant to marry rich and shop all day, maybe these employers are intimidated by my incredible beauty and ridiculous charm. Whatever the problem, I'd like to get it resolved ASAP so that I can continue to set city-wide fashion trends and have a car to terrorize fellow drivers. I have becomed very accustomed to the roof over my messy head and the ability to pay for the few meals I manage to eat a week. Losing these rather material things would devastate me, but not nearly as much as packing it up and moving back to my parent's home, defeated and completely embarrassed. So far, this is not even close to becoming an option (Thank GOD) but the way things have played out to this point, I may be closer to this than I want to accept.
Don't get me wrong, I love my parents. I do. But their house is no longer my home. My home is the two-bedroom apartment in the sleepy riverside community with the gorgeous hardwood floors currently smothered in piles of clothes needing to be laundered. My home is the city with its four malls and five Targets and the church filled with people who truly, truly care for me. I love this city, these people, these floors. I know I haven't written much about my time here and what little I did pen seems to be somewhat negative. The truth is that I have spent the last nine months falling in love with this town and the fantastic life provided for me here. And though it seems as though that life is crumbling to bits around me now, I wouldn't take a single second back. Not one.
Now that life has to go on, move forward, even if just one second at a time. Looking too far ahead of that knocks the wind right out of me. So, one second at a time. That's manageable, right?
#
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Yesterday, All My Troubles Seemed So Far Away
Here are some pictures of me as an innocent young child, as yet untouched by the uber-harsh realities of this world. I'm posting them because they make me smile and remind me of happier, more blessed times. So much has happened in the past weeks, I don't even know where or how to begin expressing it and I'm not quite sure I'm ready to talk about things yet, so until I am, I'm going to remind myself and all of you how good I look when I can eek out a smile.
#
Friday, July 08, 2005
Closer To Fine
Don't tell Tom Cruise, but today I started on my first course of Zoloft. Not able to find the magic vitamin pills he speaks of and sick and tired of feeling like I was headed for a padded room, I summoned the courage to talk to my doctor and take a proactive step in my mental health. For several months now, I have been plagued by anxiety attacks caused by a panic disorder I was too afraid to talk about. Not wanting to be labeled, I suffered rather publically without disclosing what I feared may truely be causing my troubles. I blamed it on stress, on the heart condition, on overdosing on caffine, but I never dreamed of coming out and telling people the truth.
Until today, that is. Last night, and not for the first time, a good friend implied that I could control my illness if I truely wanted to. Little did he know this is not true, not without some help at least. This morning, I cried my way through a doctor's visit and tearily confessed that, despite my best efforts to prove otherwise, I am not well. She made the diagnosis I feared and prescribed the course of treatment I desperately need. For the first time since this all began, I feel like the doctor really heard what I was saying. Maybe that's because for the first time I was really honest about what I am dealing with.
I've gone back and forth as to whether I wanted to come out and talk this publically about my struggle. I still fear the "crazy" label but I think it's important to talk about things like this. People who have spoken out about their own struggles with their own illnesses were the ones who inspired me to seek help. If I could be that for someone else, it would make anything worthwhile. Without them, I may have continued on without treatment for a very long time and who knows where that secretive path might have taken me.
For now, though, I'm trying to be optimistic. For now, until the shaking starts and the heart pounds right out of my chest, I'm trying to think positively about the fact that this could put an end to my panic attacks, to my misery and my own personal hell.
#
Until today, that is. Last night, and not for the first time, a good friend implied that I could control my illness if I truely wanted to. Little did he know this is not true, not without some help at least. This morning, I cried my way through a doctor's visit and tearily confessed that, despite my best efforts to prove otherwise, I am not well. She made the diagnosis I feared and prescribed the course of treatment I desperately need. For the first time since this all began, I feel like the doctor really heard what I was saying. Maybe that's because for the first time I was really honest about what I am dealing with.
I've gone back and forth as to whether I wanted to come out and talk this publically about my struggle. I still fear the "crazy" label but I think it's important to talk about things like this. People who have spoken out about their own struggles with their own illnesses were the ones who inspired me to seek help. If I could be that for someone else, it would make anything worthwhile. Without them, I may have continued on without treatment for a very long time and who knows where that secretive path might have taken me.
For now, though, I'm trying to be optimistic. For now, until the shaking starts and the heart pounds right out of my chest, I'm trying to think positively about the fact that this could put an end to my panic attacks, to my misery and my own personal hell.
#
