Because the non profit I work for is going through a transition, we’re all stressed. I’m particularly stressed because of the entirely new phone system and how the trainers are not training me nor have they set me up properly. I felt like walking out today. I heard that voice in me saying, “You can’t do this. You really can’t do this.”
This has been my life in the past. Things get really stressful and I cave in and then I walk away. Stress is difficult for me. But is it “easy” for anyone? Probably not, but they handle it differently. My panic button is set to go off very quickly and severely. I overload and can’t understand what’s being said to me. I feel inferior. I feel ill-equipped. I feel I am horrible at the job and that they are seeing it and will not want me.
I’m pretty sure I’m not horrible at my job, but I do think I’m a little high maintenance. I don’t like to be high maintenance. I don’t like to think of my young colleagues rolling their eyes at one another thinking, ‘there she goes again.’
Tomorrow is my 58th birthday. I’m feeling particularly bitter about it because I resent that I am here, getting used to working 8am to 5pm five days a week, learning new things, trying to get enough sleep, wondering how long I can keep this up. Wondering if I’ll ever own a home again.
I fucking hate my ex for making me end up alone. And please, nobody say, “Oh you’ll find someone.” Because the odds are not good that I will.
I fucking hate him so much. Him and his now 27 year old girlfriend and their future, whatever it holds. Maybe her family thinks he’s exotic and maybe they’re enamored with him. He is a very, very good ass kisser and love bomber — that is until he flips and no longer gives a shit.
On ChumpLady, the website I go to for so much solace (and it has saved my life countless times) is getting harder for me to spend time at. First, I just don’t have the time to read every comment and offer hope to other chumps. Secondly, sometimes their fresh pain can be triggering. And third, when they talk about meeting someone new, or falling in love again, or having a sex life again, I get so envious that I feel ashamed of myself.
I’ve only been working full time for a bit over two months but it feels like six months! Tomorrow is the first day that I am taking the afternoon off to go and see my therapist whom I haven’t seen in over two months. I’m sure I won’t know how to catch her up on stuff, but the bottom line is I need to ask her how to better handle those moments of panic which give me away.
I wish I could remember God at that moment. I usually remember God a bit later when the panic is easing and thinking of God helps to calm me. But I wish I would remember him earlier. I think I’ll call the Assistant Priest at my church to ask him how to be more aware of God in those really stressful moments (and always, really), because it does help me.
Being a receptionist is a very difficult job. I’m there twenty minutes early, I never get a full hour lunch, I’m driving around after 5pm looking for a flipping mailbox. And during the day everybody else can take a moment here and there to calm down and de-stress, but not me. I’m chained to the phone. I really dislike that. But this was the only job I could get. And it will probably be the last job I get.
I emailed a mortgage guy that was recommended to me and his assistant called me back yesterday. I gave her my social security number so they could run a background check on me to see if I might qualify for a loan. When she started asking me questions I realized how absurd it is for me to be contemplating buying a home for at least a year!
I’ve only been working for two months. I declared bankruptcy a year ago. I really don’t think they’ll be able to help me at this time. The sad part is that I found an affordable home that I’d really love to buy. I wish I hadn’t looked at Zillow. Do not go to Zillow.com if you don’t want to find the little house of your dreams. Sigh.
So I’m hoping that I get the news in the next few days that I should try or not try to get a loan at this time. It means more time here under my parent’s roof. Thankfully they are fine with me staying here. I can save so much more if I’m here rather than paying almost a mortgage in rent. But being on my own will be better for my mental and physical health and I’m so, so eager to get out.
For now I’ll stay put.
I don’t want my birthday to be tomorrow. I don’t want to be 58. I don’t want anyone to acknowledge it. I just deactivated my Facebook for a few days so that I would not have to look at “happy birthdays” from people who only remember because Facebook reminds them of the fact. My mom keeps asking me what I “want to do” for my birthday like I’m a kid and going to say, “Chuck E Cheese!” She won’t eat at any place remotely exotic so I don’t see the point.
Having no one — not even a girlfriend to go out with, is just terribly shameful to me at this point. I feel tears coming on again.
Don’t try to make me feel better. It just is what it is. I recently saw this photo that my daughter sent to me. When I call her cell phone this is what she sees. I was only about 22 years old and never thought I’d end up alone: