It sums up what I've been going through lately perfectly. See, last year I had three different part-time retail jobs, none lasting more than three months. This year so far I've had none. The common denominator in these jobs, the reason that none of them lasted, was my relationship with my boss and co-workers. I honestly don't see why, but I must just rub people the wrong way.
It's no skin off my back, that these people don't "get" how great I am. Most people don't. I'm used to it. I wake up every morning and my first thought is, "Oh, good. I'm awake." That's not just because I take a fuckload of antidepressants and mood stabilizers before I go to bed each night, but also because of my attitude as the result of what I've been through in my life.
I used to have a "morning problem." I would wake up each morning, for as long as I can remember, feeling like I had just been run over by two trains, one going in each direction. My head hurt, my body ached, the sun hurt my eyes, I felt foul and my mood was even worse. I dealt with this by running late everywhere, arriving with wet hair sometimes and without the things I needed for the day. I would miss the bus in junior high. In high school I would get out of bed when my ride pulled in the driveway. Finally, after I stopped working, I would just not even get up until one or two in the afternoon. Noon required a Herculean effort.
Now things have changed. A few years ago, I found a new psychiatrist and my boyfriend at the time ("Paul" on this blog) told him about my trouble getting out of bed at a decent hour. He said, "Oh, well, just take your x medication at dinner time." Reader, it was so easy to get out of bed the next morning! I was amazed. I felt great. No indescribable sensation of pain, no squinting at the light. I think that what the medication does is keep my brain from switching on full-speed-ahead at ten o'clock at night, so I am able to fall asleep at a decent hour and actually get rest all night.
So now when I wake up, I feel good and ready to start the day. I realize that some people who work full-time don't feel as great as I do when they wake up in the morning. So I should be able to hold down an itty-bitty no stress part-time job in a quilt shop three days a week, right? Apparently, wrong. For this and other social reasons, I had a really bad night the other night. By bad I mean I threw a little temper tantrum to God, alone in my apartment with just my dogs and me. No harm, no foul. But it was out of the ordinary for me. I got so frustrated with what little progress I seemed to have made in a decade of healing that at one point I slammed my open palms down on the counter and cried alligator tears. That's it. I said, crying, "God, you give me so little and then you take it away."
I don't want to lower my expectations, but after my harrowing experience with Paul, I doubt that I am capable of being stable in a relationship. I doubt that I can have a job other than working somehow for myself. And the scariest part of all that is, right now I'm fine with that. I spend the largest proportion of my time alone in my apartment, safe from the world's rejection. But I am a unique person. Really I'm the only one like me that I have ever met. The world would be a better place for making room for me. So that's partly the reason for this blog, and the other part is reaching out to anyone who might read it and relate.
So share it, readers. I installed followers and sharing gadgets, as well as a comments section. Help me fly. Help me, to return to the graphic at the top of this post, to add a little more green to the visible part of my success story. And thanks for being interested enough to be my readers! Love to all.
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