I Gotta Work It

I started a new job this past Monday.  I am a temporary receptionist for a major pharmaceutical company. My first week went by pretty fast, but I'm still trying to figure out the scope of my responsibilities.  Some of the people there have no patience for my lack of knowledge.  A lot of different things go through me, but at first I didn't even know they were my responsibility. Naturally people got frustrated, but so was I.

I have higher self confidence. This job is a major pay increase.  With my hourly rate and the number of hours I have, I am quadrupling my monthly income. That's huge. I feel like less of a burden.  Everyone (almost) is so proud of me. I don't want to let anyone down.  This is a huge opportunity and I'm afraid that I won't get hired or my contract extended at the end. It might seem silly to aspire to hold down a receptionist position, but this is like my big break.  I could actually go back to school and pay off my debt. I could have a car that starts and stops.

Nobody's Perfect

I know it sounds selfish that I want people to be proud of me.  I never felt the need to impress anyone, but when you are there for someone through their drama and successes you expect it back.  That's called friendship. So when I got this new job that was a really big deal to me, I thought that certain people would be interested and supportive. I was wrong. It's like it doesn't even register to them that this is a big deal. Not all of us want to be famous.  I don't need my ego fluffed, I just want a reciprocal friendship. I don't think that's a lot to ask. Especially since I coddle people's emotions all the time. Maybe I don't need to coddle them. Maybe if I stop they will see there are other people in the world with goals and feelings.  Just because those things are different doesn't mean they are wrong, either.

I am really enjoying this new job, but it's like my house fell apart while I was there. No one did any dishes for a week. Not one. The dishwasher doesn't work if you don't turn it on. No one cleaned anything.  I work 7 days a week now and I'm not going to have the time or energy to clean constantly like I did before. It might not have even looked like I was, but I was.  It's part of growing up that you have to contribute to your little group. I don't understand why it's only me doing these things.

I feel like a burden when I have to get a ride to or from work, but I do some dropping off and picking up too.  Then I come home and do a week's worth of dishes and laundry all the while fuming about the lack of recognition or interest.

I'm worth something. I contribute. I try so hard and I feel like no one gives a shit.

Instead of being proud of me for getting a job I worked hard to get, it's like everyone just sees it as a lower expense for them.

I'm worth something.
I'm worth something.
I'm worth something.

Yo No Se

Ok, so I've been having a rough week. It's kind of been up and down, but things have leveled off.  I've done a lot of cleaning, cooking and baking. A bit of meddling too, which I'm not proud of.  When you see a bunch of people wandering aimlessly through traffic, you do what you can to help.

In the last few days I've made:

• lasagna
• garlic bread
• oatmeal chocolate chip cookies
• red velvet cupcakes
• cream cheese frosting
• roasted red potatoes
• mashed potatoes
• burgers
• and tonight, a meatloaf
• also, salad

My sister also helped me clean almost my whole house. It feels so nice.

I owe approximately $2,650 to the hospital and doctors who performed my surgery. That's more than a third of what I make in a year right now. I should get used to cooking at home because I can't afford to get pre-made food or eat out. I put the first check in the mail today. I wish I had a way to supplement my income a little. I think I could probably sell jams pretty easily, but in Illinois they have to be sold at a farmer's market.  That kind of narrows down my access to customers.  People who shop at a farmer's market are easily capable of making their own jams. My house isn't nice enough to babysit in. I'm not that great at sewing clothing. I don't have my own car. I need to brainstorm...

Don't Let Me Get Me

So my last post was really emotional. I don't think there is anything wrong with that.  I would like to say that I'm trying to deal with these new emotions and so far it hasn't been very successful. I don't know anyone who has dealt with something similar and I have no experience with this either. Up until this point I've had a fairly clean bill of health.

Now all I do is question everything and everyone. Now that my future is fuzzier than ever, what else has changed?  Maybe my relationship isn't what I thought it was or maybe I'm crazy. Maybe my family isn't what I thought it was. My friends are far away and stressed out enough with their own lives. How am I supposed to vent about my quarter life crisis?

My first instinct is to flee. I've been moving from house to house my entire life so maybe I feel like I need a fresh start. Maybe if one thing is changing in my life it gives me an excuse to act irrationally to change everything else. I think I just need reassurance. That there is someone in the universe whose happiness relates to mine. Someone whose kisses feel like love, not obligation. Someone who listens to my frustrations with empathy instead of defensiveness. Someone who holds me at night because they want to not because I've asked. I want to be someone's first choice before everything else in spite of my craziness and defectiveness. I want to look into someone's eyes and see they think I'm something else, something special. I need someone to save me from myself.

Tonight

So I have PCOS. I recently had surgery to remove a cyst outside my right ovary. I was so scared. Up until a few days before, I thought it was going to be no big deal. They do this all the time. As the day drew near, not even those thoughts could relax my restless anxiety.

I think the surgery made the reality of my life more clear to me. I'm damaged goods. It wasn't enough that I was already a husk of a person, but now I am literally, physically damaged. I have the scars to prove it. It could potentially be very difficult for me to have children. I was born to have kids. It's who I am. I know it. Everyone who knows me knows it.

So now, if I ever want to settle down and get married it will have to be with a person who can reassure me that I'm not alone when I almost constantly feel overwhelmingly alone. On top of that, they will have to be ok with the fact that I might never be able to conceive and carry a child. Which means he would have to be cool with either never having kids or adoption. I guess men who are ok with adoption are exceedingly rare.

Which makes me feel more alone.

It's not fair for me to assume that my boyfriend knows I feel this way. I don't say it out loud. It's not fair for him to choose video games/tv/movies over me either. I don't think I could make it any more clear that I  feel like he doesn't love me very strongly. So now, after all this stuff, I'm scared I will really be alone. I want him to love me like I love him so badly. I want him to see the pain I'm in and be empathetic. I want him to want to be spend time with me like I want to spend time with him because it might just be the two of us forever.

I'm crying silent tears right now. While he plays video games downstairs. I don't want to tell him because I don't want to be needy. I just feel broken.

I'll Pick You Up, Darling

Yesterday, I finished the book The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss.  I was just as spectacularly written as the first. I couldn't put either of them down. Enthralling.

Which is good and bad.

The good part is that Mr. Rothfuss has written a truly entertaining book. The bad part is I'm left to figure out what to read next. I'm tempted to reread a fantasy series I read a few years ago even though I know I have books on my shelves I haven't read yet. I think I'm just in a well-written-fiction kind of mood. I want to read books that use the phrase "supple leather" rampantly in reference to boots. I want to read about a world where archery is pretty normal. Which means rereading.

I'll tell you why it means rereading. I have a voluptuous collection of books. More than anyone I regularly speak to. There is quite a variety of styles I enjoy. Memoirs. Fantasy. Mystery. Trashy. I'm in a mood for fantasy but lack a person to make me a recommendation. So I'm left to either peruse a bookstore and hope I come out with something worthwhile, trust a stranger's opinion, reread or take a break from reading until my mood for fantasy passes and I can read something else. Russell Brand's memoirs are sitting on my shelf collecting dust.

It could be that Kvothe has ruined me for all other men.

About a Girl

Recently, my sister dyed my hair. Somehow after nearly 3 years of trying, I have finally settled on a color I love. My natural one.

The first time I dyed my hair was ill advised. I tried for blonde and then got talked into these preposterous highlights. I was going through some huge changes in my life and I think this was one of the manifestations of that. Since then, I tried going back to natural only to dye again. I did have something kind of red going for a while too.

So I decided I was fed up with the seesawing and had my sister dye the colored part of my hair as close to natural as we guessed we could using drugstore dye. It worked. It is (almost) perfectly matched. You could only tell the difference if you were looking for it.

That is symbolic for my feelings about my life right now, but I won't say why. :P

Shadows Pass Her By and Out of Sight

You know what? You can fuck off if you think I'm not worth it.  You aren't a man. You are a coward. Why has it taken me so long to figure it out? Years of being let down. Decades of taking the backseat.

I've never looked at you the same way since I found out I was a mistake. You told me that it didn't change the way you felt about me. You loved me. You wanted me. So why has it never felt like that? Any real man would have taken my side. Any real man would show an interest. Any real man would show up.

You know what? A real man did. He didn't have to, but he has been there for me since I was a little girl. He taught me long division. He coached my softball team. He took care of me. Where were you? Yeah he has fucked up a few times, but you have been fucking up my psyche for 22 years. You are why I can't trust people. You are why I'm so critical.

You would think that after your father died you would see our relationship with new eyes. Not really. It's all about you, isn't it? You don't think about me.

You don't think about me. I cry about you.