I remember feeling like 2011 would never end. It was a hard year for me. There were many times I felt I could lose nothing more and still retain my sanity. Needless to say, I'm hoping for a better 2012.
In 2011, I had six jobs. Six. I'm sure some people don't have that many jobs in their entire lifetime. The year started out looking good. I left my job in retail for a 2-in-1 position that I thought would really boost my career and give me coveted PR experience. First, one side of the equation tanked, right before our vacation to Florida, then the other, just before my trip to NYC. I was back in retail before I knew what hit me. I went to New York City to visit The Writer during his internship not knowing how I would survive financially when I got back. I'd been applying for jobs almost all year. Applying, applying, applying and never the right offer. I'd been out of school for nearly a year and a half and all I had to show for it was the same shopping mall job that had barely paid my credit card bills in college. I. Was. Stressed.
Finally, at the end of September, I started my first "real" job. "Real" as in: 401k real, health insurance real, 40 hours/week real, pay off my debt real. I have hopes for this job. Granted, it isn't my passion, but I can pay my bills and then some, which I'm very thankful for. The financial strides I'm taking, along with the industry I've broken into give me hope that 2012 will be a great year and that my hope will become a reality. I'm hoping that this will be my last Midwest winter and that next Christmas I'll be taking NJ Transit down from New York City to spend Christmas with my family in New Jersey and meeting The Writer for snowy walks through Central Park.
In the meantime, I'm going to start making some of my own clothes. I'll be posting about them with my new camera The Writer gave me for Christmas this year. Have I mentioned he's pretty awesome? I don't know how I would've made it through 2011 without him. He's incredibly supportive and tons of other positive adjectives.
Oh, yes, and we're joining a gym together. How's that for a new year?
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Monday, January 2, 2012
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Looking Forward To...
Underemployment is depressing. I'm sure that's not surprising. I find it pretty difficult to write when I'm feeling down, since all my thoughts seem to come out as whining, at least that's how it seems to me. I'm feeling an upswing in my mood after a pleasant phone call today with a woman who may end up being my next boss. I'm really hoping things fall into place with this job. Its what I've been looking for, almost exactly.
I'm looking forward to being financially stable and to having a job that can become my career if I so choose. I'm also really looking forward to indulging, if you'd like to call it that, in things that have fallen by the wayside in my time of fiscal scarcity. Things like: new work clothes, having a professional cut and color my hair, groceries every week, new glasses, shoes that don't hurt my feet and last more than six months, jeans that fit well, Sephora eyeliner, new panties, eyebrow waxes, pedicures and Netflix.
Its funny how many of the things in that list never seemed like luxuries back in February when I though I had everything set. I know its going to take time before I can have all those things, but I'm definitely looking forward to a good cut and color. My hair is out of control. The Writer lovingly equates my bangs to those of a sheepdog, as in, they've grown past my nose. I'm also going to have the batch of dress pants that A handed down to me altered, since they're way too long. Once that's done, getting new work clothes won't be such an issue.
I just keep hoping. I want stability so badly. I want to be able to afford ice cream, oh yum!
I'm looking forward to being financially stable and to having a job that can become my career if I so choose. I'm also really looking forward to indulging, if you'd like to call it that, in things that have fallen by the wayside in my time of fiscal scarcity. Things like: new work clothes, having a professional cut and color my hair, groceries every week, new glasses, shoes that don't hurt my feet and last more than six months, jeans that fit well, Sephora eyeliner, new panties, eyebrow waxes, pedicures and Netflix.
Its funny how many of the things in that list never seemed like luxuries back in February when I though I had everything set. I know its going to take time before I can have all those things, but I'm definitely looking forward to a good cut and color. My hair is out of control. The Writer lovingly equates my bangs to those of a sheepdog, as in, they've grown past my nose. I'm also going to have the batch of dress pants that A handed down to me altered, since they're way too long. Once that's done, getting new work clothes won't be such an issue.
I just keep hoping. I want stability so badly. I want to be able to afford ice cream, oh yum!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Rock Bottom
I have been dealing with such stress over the last few months. One of my jobs, the one that provides the most significant income, has been a complicated place to work. I've tried to stick it out because I need the income and because I hoped things would get better. It has become glaringly obvious that things are only getting worse and I feel more and more disrespected every day.
Let me say that I have done my best here. To most people, I don't appear to be doing much of anything, which is true at times and very frustrating to me. I was hired in hopes that my experience in publicity would pull a drowning business out of the water, yet my hands were tied due to corporate budget issues. The same budget issues, I fear, will result in my position eventually being filled by an undocumented worker that can be paid a wage below the federal minimum.
I lay awake at night, angry about this place. I'm woken up by nightmares in which I am cornered and threatened by the people who imagine they have control of my building. I hate the feeling of bitterness and resentment that I find is building up in my heart. I don't want to feel like that. My stomach churns with nausea nearly every time I'm spoken to, because nearly every person is rude and mean, and I've learned to constantly be on the defensive. There is an almost constant pain in my lower abdomen that begins shortly after I arrive at work and lasts the rest of the day. I am literally sick over this job.
It is not unusual for me to cry at work these days. I used to never be weepy, but now it is nearly impossible for me to make it through a week without tears. I cried the whole way home yesterday and I kept crying. I was at my wit's end. There was no way I could continue holding on, to keep hoping that things would get better. I have begun to fear for my safety.
Yesterday, I gave my notice. I give up. The people who would rather not pay me have won.
I'm hoping to move on to a brighter future. I hope to find a career in which my skills and interests are utilized and where I don't spend my days essentially babysitting adults. I need a job where I can look nice and not have to worry about being harassed. I want to be proud of where I work and what I do and know that I am working towards accomplishing my goals.
I'm praying that the income from this job will be easily replaced. I know I will find a way, even if I have to ask for help for a few weeks. The paycheck, even after they were unceremoniously cut back, still covered bills and expenses, but even that is no longer incentive enough to stay.
Let me say that I have done my best here. To most people, I don't appear to be doing much of anything, which is true at times and very frustrating to me. I was hired in hopes that my experience in publicity would pull a drowning business out of the water, yet my hands were tied due to corporate budget issues. The same budget issues, I fear, will result in my position eventually being filled by an undocumented worker that can be paid a wage below the federal minimum.
I lay awake at night, angry about this place. I'm woken up by nightmares in which I am cornered and threatened by the people who imagine they have control of my building. I hate the feeling of bitterness and resentment that I find is building up in my heart. I don't want to feel like that. My stomach churns with nausea nearly every time I'm spoken to, because nearly every person is rude and mean, and I've learned to constantly be on the defensive. There is an almost constant pain in my lower abdomen that begins shortly after I arrive at work and lasts the rest of the day. I am literally sick over this job.
It is not unusual for me to cry at work these days. I used to never be weepy, but now it is nearly impossible for me to make it through a week without tears. I cried the whole way home yesterday and I kept crying. I was at my wit's end. There was no way I could continue holding on, to keep hoping that things would get better. I have begun to fear for my safety.
Yesterday, I gave my notice. I give up. The people who would rather not pay me have won.
I'm hoping to move on to a brighter future. I hope to find a career in which my skills and interests are utilized and where I don't spend my days essentially babysitting adults. I need a job where I can look nice and not have to worry about being harassed. I want to be proud of where I work and what I do and know that I am working towards accomplishing my goals.
I'm praying that the income from this job will be easily replaced. I know I will find a way, even if I have to ask for help for a few weeks. The paycheck, even after they were unceremoniously cut back, still covered bills and expenses, but even that is no longer incentive enough to stay.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
The Post in Which I Cry at Random Times
If I write this post, I may cry at work. I've been crying less and less everyday since The Writer left for NYC. I'm embarrassed that I've been so emotional, but the schedule of his departure and other things left me a wreck. We spend a lot of amazing time together last week...oh shoot, here come the tears again.
I miss my nook--that place just inside his shoulder that my head fits into when we cuddle. I miss his smell. I miss having someone to talk to during meals, car rides, and shopping trips. I miss the way he'd hold me. I miss feeling my bed sag in his direction and the way he'd pull me close to him right as we were waking up. I miss the eye-rolls when I start yet another episode of Sex and the City. I miss the random interruptions to our conversations when I fancy car goes by.
I'm buying my plane ticket next week, as long as all goes well. Then the official countdown to reunion can begin. Four-and-a-half weeks seems like a really long time, but it will mean that his internship is halfway over, we'll be together again in an exciting new city, and I won't have to be jealous that he can go to H&M and TopShop whenever he wants. Until then, I suppose, I should relish having the covers to myself and...other things I like to do alone?
It's been hard getting into solo activities, because so many places around here hold memories of us. Not that I don't want to think about him, but doing things alone that we used to do together while I'm still feeling ridiculously lonely only reminds me that I'm alone and that I miss him....and I hate crying, especially in public.
I miss my nook--that place just inside his shoulder that my head fits into when we cuddle. I miss his smell. I miss having someone to talk to during meals, car rides, and shopping trips. I miss the way he'd hold me. I miss feeling my bed sag in his direction and the way he'd pull me close to him right as we were waking up. I miss the eye-rolls when I start yet another episode of Sex and the City. I miss the random interruptions to our conversations when I fancy car goes by.
I'm buying my plane ticket next week, as long as all goes well. Then the official countdown to reunion can begin. Four-and-a-half weeks seems like a really long time, but it will mean that his internship is halfway over, we'll be together again in an exciting new city, and I won't have to be jealous that he can go to H&M and TopShop whenever he wants. Until then, I suppose, I should relish having the covers to myself and...other things I like to do alone?
It's been hard getting into solo activities, because so many places around here hold memories of us. Not that I don't want to think about him, but doing things alone that we used to do together while I'm still feeling ridiculously lonely only reminds me that I'm alone and that I miss him....and I hate crying, especially in public.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Day 26: Have You Ever Thought About Giving Up on Life? If so, When and Why?
Wow, this is depressing and extremely personal...
The first half of my sophomore year of high school was really awful. I can't entirely remember why. I was rebelling, but I can't completely remember why. My relationship with my parents was terrible. I was in an extremely unhealthy relationship, more so than I realized at the time. I had several eating disorders.
Everything hurt and I didn't know why. My dad was taking me to a counselor because of how bad things were between he and I. Or maybe it was just because of how bad I was, I don't know. All this counselor guy did was talk to me about prayer. I don't think he even believed problems like mine existed.
It was a horrible, horrible time. The pressure kept on building until I thought I couldn't take it anymore. I cracked. The only good thing that came of it was that I finally got to see a real medical professional and was put on medication that helped me get back to a good enough place where I could deal with my issues.
The first half of my sophomore year of high school was really awful. I can't entirely remember why. I was rebelling, but I can't completely remember why. My relationship with my parents was terrible. I was in an extremely unhealthy relationship, more so than I realized at the time. I had several eating disorders.
Everything hurt and I didn't know why. My dad was taking me to a counselor because of how bad things were between he and I. Or maybe it was just because of how bad I was, I don't know. All this counselor guy did was talk to me about prayer. I don't think he even believed problems like mine existed.
It was a horrible, horrible time. The pressure kept on building until I thought I couldn't take it anymore. I cracked. The only good thing that came of it was that I finally got to see a real medical professional and was put on medication that helped me get back to a good enough place where I could deal with my issues.
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