I’ve been trying to find a job for the last month and have understandably been too depressed to write a blog post. That’s because nothing brings up the self-doubt more intensely than putting myself out there, best foot first – only to discover no one is buying what I’m selling.
I’ve applied for 22 jobs and have not been called for one. Single. Interview.
If I’d gotten any of those jobs, I would have failed, and my life would have sucked. That’s what hurts.
It kills me that I’m trying to get something I completely do not want. I don’t want a job. There. I said it. I’ve tried to succeed living a conventional life, and it has resulted in:
Two breakdowns – bad enough that when our family doctor sees me coming, he cringes just a little.
Loss of three friendly acquaintances because I made them uncomfortable. Nothing I can prove, or speak directly to – but suddenly they’re all too busy for coffee, and I don’t seem to be getting constant Facebook updates like I used to.
Which had resulted in experiments with useful self-medications – including binge watching every half-decent Netflix series, excessive dependency on gin, being an asshole to people who don’t deserve it, and nameless, faceless sex (with my husband) (more…)