YippeeFebruary 8, 2016
I had an interesting discussion yesterday with a ‘friend’ who is someone I am friendly with because our spouses work together. This is not a person I call or email – I don’t know the person’s email address. I have known this person for over a year. I had attempted to get an email address and yet I don’t think I have ever gotten it. I have given mine, often.
My question is this: Why do some people think that my not “living up to my potential” is in some way an insult to them?
Crap, I don’t even remember how the conversation got started. For all I know, I started it. It’s often a topic since it is supposed to be one of the things I am working on: FINDING A J-O-B.
There are many reasons I haven’t found a job. The two big ones are because I am extremely picky and I am afraid. Sure, the pickiness is an offshoot of the fear.
I get it! I *should* have a job. I am obviously not trying hard enough to find a job. I’m doing everything wrong, I’m not applying for all that I should, I’m not ‘getting OUT there’.
I wonder if writing my message on a cardboard sign and standing at a busy intersection would benefit my efforts more than the suckage I review each day in the want ads.
“Oh, less than 3% of people find jobs through the want ads.” Great.
Where the fuck do I go meet these people that will supposedly be bowled over with my lovely credentials and offer a decent salary WITH BENEFITS?
This person, on hearing that my tale of woe, didn’t get the fact that powers that be told me NO and that I’m not banging on their door trying to convince them otherwise. I don’t get why there isn’t understanding. (The state I live in denied my certification to do something another state granted me certification for – and this new state wants me to get more school and the programs are requiring me to have it already to get into grad school. Classic Catch 22) I don’t even know if I want this career anyway in this state.
Hey, I know I’m not doing enough and I’m not applying for as many positions as I *should* because the whole process fills my insides with a cold tight congealed chicken fat feeling and I get anxious and start hyperventilating. I know! I do.
I know I’m letting fear shut me down to a state of inactivity.
Your yelling at me stupid options isn’t helping. Thankyouverymuch.
Whew. I feel better.
(I gave the person my card and said, “Email me.”) I’m such an idiot.