I spent an hour and a half with a man from the small business development center and started to get an understanding of how to start my business. There are a ton of good resources out there.
Then I went to the post office to mail one of my eBay sales.
Then I rushed to the kids center to take a case. It wasn’t until I got home after 5:30 pm that I saw I had had an email and phone call from the man I interviewed with the other day.
He asked if I could come in Monday for another interview and to meet more of the staff and have a look around. It sounds pretty promising.
Only I don’t want the job.
I’ll take it. But I don’t want it. I don’t have any choice.
My parents are also pressuring me to take it even though I keep telling them I will take it. I don’t know what’s wrong with them. I made a comment about feeling bad for the place I volunteer because they just hired a bunch of new advocates and they need to shadow experienced advocates like me (well, I’m one of the most experienced there currently). When I signed on to volunteer there I committed to a year which will be February. It’s only natural that I’d feel badly for running out on them when they’re short handed.
I’m pretty sure my supervisor there will completely understand and wish me well. I was merely making a comment about what a shame it was. And I don’t even have the job yet! But my mother came into the room with a concerned look on her face and sat down and said, “I just don’t understand what you’re getting at with the kids center. You shouldn’t put any restrictions on when you can start. They need someone right away.” AS THOUGH I’M A MORON and haven’t already had a hundred jobs in my life.
I said, “Mom, I’m fifty seven years old. I don’t need you to tell me how to handle this. I am capable of handling it. Please don’t fret over it.”
She stood up and I could see she was utterly offended by my tone of voice. As she walked away I repeated, “Don’t fret over it, Mom.”
She won’t speak to me for a few days now.
But talk about history repeating itself. Every time in my life I was on the verge of doing something a bit daring, my parents would get involved and tell me what I should do. And what I should do is always the safe and predictable thing. I guess when you have a baby at 18 your parents think you never grow up.
Of course I’ll need to take the job if offered. But that’ll be the end of dreams for my own business. And most of my paycheck will go to pay for my rent, so there I go with the rest of my life, working 8a-5p M-F and no idea how to prepare for my “old age.” Living alone. Too busy to even get a dog.
I suppose I’m supposed to hope I meet some 60 year old man who’ll find me sexy and allow me into his life and his home. Only I don’t give a shit about men right now — they all disgust me.
And my husband is going off the deep end, I mean seriously. He texted me today and told me to call his lawyer again. I said I had left his lawyer a detailed message on the phone yesterday, and today I wrote him an email. I said, I’m sorry, I’m really busy today. He said if I don’t get an answer he’ll go over there and god knows what he’ll do.
I said, “Don’t do anything stupid.” But he’s fired up. Really fired up. He’s the man who doesn’t like fighting and doesn’t like drama and he’s LOSING IT. I will not be a bit surprised if the money takes months or years to appear now because he’s going to fuck it up. I cannot rely on that money anyway, another reason I have to take the job. It may never find it’s way to me.
When I got home tonight I texted him asking if he had heard anything. He wrote back, “I don’t want to talk about it.” And I didn’t respond to that. It’s fucking out of my hands. He’s losing his mind.
I’m at a tipping point myself with him. The anger I felt before is coming back to me. He fucked another woman. He used up my money. He coldly turned his back on me. Even when I was literally on my knees he wouldn’t comfort me. He deserves nothing from me. Right now I fucking hate him.
I feel like the 19 year old young mother I was when I moved back home with my parents after my first marriage broke up. Everybody had to tell me what to do. And I worked fucking hard all my life. ALL MY FUCKING LIFE until ten years ago when I broke down. Why does everyone have to tell me what to do?
I think for my sanity, as busy and tired as I will be, I will still try to have a side business simply because I need to earn as much money as I am capable of. I don’t know how I can get to the fucking post office. Jesus, I’ve forgotten how restrictive 8-5 M-F work is. I guess I’ll attempt to get to the post office at lunch time now and then.
If I get this job I will more than likely start very soon. It’s a mall for fuck’s sake, and Christmas is coming. I will have to hit the ground running.
The upside is that I’ll be around people every day. I’ll be forming new relationships which I am desperate for. I wonder what it was about me that made them want to interview me again. I had convinced myself that the interview went badly because I was so nervous.
I guess I don’t like change that much. Well, I do and I don’t. If I had my way I’d embark on this new business and give my 8-12 hours a week to the kids center and begin my empire. That is apparently a luxury I can’t afford. My parents are housing me, and I can’t take advantage of their generosity. I complained about not even getting an interview and now I complain about possibly being offered the job.
God, I’m so broke and I wore my only decent outfit for the first interview! Not sure what I’ll do to come up with a second interview outfit. I have a fair amount of business casual because I wear that to volunteer, but interview cloths, no.
Whatever happens it’ll be okay. I have a feeling they’ll offer me the job and when they do, I’ll make the best of it. Not sure why I give off this aura of being unable to step up and do the “right” thing. It’s the story of my childhood and it’s getting very old.
STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO.
And now I feel guilty for telling my mom I didn’t need her input on this. But my fucking god, can’t she give me any credit. I heard dad muttering about it too. They actually think I’d jeopardize the job? FUCK!
For the heck of it I began to look at apartments to see what was available, although I doubt I’d move out for a couple of months. I was overwhelmed with a.) how expensive one bedrooms are, and b.) setting up my home, making it my nest, and then freaking out about being alone.
I’m afraid. But it’s been a year here and I guess I need to get my big girl panties on and step up so that is what I’ll do.
Funny how just when things start to change for the better they suddenly seem so dark. I was sitting around with the women at the kids center this afternoon and I felt so comfortable with them. I didn’t feel like I’m old enough to be their mother, I was just part of the group and it felt so nice. I’ll have to start over now with a new group, but in time I’m sure I’ll feel some camaraderie. The difference is that the kids center deals with a very serious subject and my coworkers are interesting people, and the job at the mall is a job at the mall.