This may be the coldest post I’ve written on this blog, so if dark thoughts or stoic feelings are disturbing to you, please read no further.
This post was inspired by a particular video and its comments. However, I will link to neither because it’s an uncomfortable subject and it probably comes off as being oversensitive. Still, I feel the need to talk about it.
First off, since I’m posting on this day, I’ll say this: Happy Thanksgiving!
I had an interesting experience over the holiday “weekend”. I mentioned in a previous post I’d finally found a job. I’m still at that job and currently fearing my upcoming shift for Black Friday. Coming back from a lovely holiday is helping the anxiety a little, however.
When I continuously heard nothing from U, I assumed I simply wasn’t going to be working there. I’d heard from more experienced people a long wait wasn’t abnormal, but by the time they finally got back to me, after three weeks, I’d already worked about seven days at B. I wasn’t really having regrets because that meant I was able to start working sooner than later. The thought I could’ve missed out on that if I’d turned down B to wait on U makes me angry.
Eventually, I finally did hear from U. The background check finally came through and was finished, so they could let me begin working. But even that didn’t go as planned. I still had to wait on them, mainly the person I needed to speak to wasn’t there, despite me showing up exactly when I was supposed to. This happened at least twice.
In the end, I only worked two days. Unknown to me, I was scheduled to work two more days after that, but I had no way of knowing that because I wasn’t given a schedule, despite being told I would. As it turned out, the employees are supposed to call the store to be told what days and times they’re working. In other words, no one receives a schedule nor is there one posted anywhere for employees to check. How on Earth I’m supposed to know something I’m not told is outside of my level of understanding. I wasn’t informed of this until I’d missed the next two days I was scheduled to work. Interestingly, the issue that I’d been told I’d be given a given a schedule and wasn’t didn’t come up in that call about my missed days. I did bring it up, but I was countered with the rule about calling to know your schedule, which doesn’t exactly explain why I was told something that was false.
By the time they called me, however, I was already out of town and while I could’ve come back, I chose not to and, in the end, let them terminate me. I can only imagine how many people would consider me an idiot for giving up a job to vacation, but by this point, I was more than annoyed. I understand no one is perfect, things come up, and people make mistakes. I do a lot of that last one as a cashier at B. This situation, however, crossed too many lines for me and the last straw was having to cut my holiday break short because somebody didn’t find it necessary to tell me about this rule beforehand. You can make the argument I should’ve asked, but how can you explain why a new hire shouldn’t expect to be told about rules like that before being allowed to work? Expected to be common sense? Not all jobs operate the same way. At B, multiple schedules are posted for employees to check before going home for the day. This is something I was told before I started working. How am I supposed to know U operates in a very different way?
Unfortunately, I’m sure that’s going to do damage to my work history, but I’ve taken it as another life lesson. If my position at B doesn’t become a permanent one and I have to look for another job, I will remember to ask about how to obtain the schedule at any interviews I go on. I’m going to steer clear of U, though.
I won’t lie. I do miss the opportunity to have been making two paychecks. It may be minimum wage, but for someone who’d never worked until recently, it was an exciting thought. However, I’m no workaholic and I do believe sometimes, there are certain things that matter more than money and working. On that phone call, I had a choice to make: a mini-vacation I wouldn’t get a chance to have again for a long time or a job that hadn’t gone smoothly in the slightest. It’s clear which I chose. If nothing else, it’s certainly made me more appreciative for the job I do have. Plus, not every opportunity can be taken. To my surprise, I wasn’t as upset as I thought I’d be, which only helps me feel I made the right choice.
I should mention it wasn’t a decision I made with no support. Everyone I’ve spoken to about what happened told me the same thing: I’m not to blame for it. Even my family said they never heard of such a thing. I went on to enjoy my break and I now get to return to work tomorrow after having been able to relax and have a great time. To me, that’s irreplaceable and I’m glad I chose it. To an extent, it makes me understand the expression “Money can’t buy happiness.” I can’t deny money buys things that make me happy and money is what enabled me to have that great break to begin with. But it’s still not everything and some things just aren’t worth missing out on.
These days, it seems my avoidance of drinking alcohol, smoking, or using other drugs is less because of the promise I made to myself and more because I lack access to these things.
From observing my grandfather, it seems being an addict is a free pass to take money from everyone else after blowing all your own. You don’t have to concern yourself with their possible needs because you need their money more than them for your needs. If they temporarily have to go without, it doesn’t matter because you’re not going without. All while being in denial or not realizing you’re an addict.
I can’t say being an addict doesn’t look appealing when I judge by that view. There seems to be little unappealing about it. On top of that, the urge to start is getting stronger with each passing day.
I left home without bathing or eating this morning. Not eating breakfast isn’t unusual for me since I haven’t eaten breakfast regularly since I was 17, but not bathing is. I’ve never been frustrated to the point of not bathing, so it’s a first. All I did was put in deodorant. What’s more surprising is I really don’t care.
Yesterday, I had a dream about driving off a bridge and I feel like that’s my brain trying to tell me something I really don’t want to admit, but might be necessary. Unfortunately, my own cowardice prevents that, as it always has when I first began feeling that way several years ago, so it’ll never be reality unless it’s done by someone else’s hand. Truthfully, I feel like all of this is my fault for ever expecting my efforts to lead me anywhere and wasting my time with trying. I’d think the first decade of my life alone would mean I know better than to expect things to get better, but apparently not. To quote a character of an anime I recently watched: I was stupid. So stupid.
I may not keep that promise. It seems to be pointless. I turn to comfort food when I feel so badly, but that hasn’t been helping like it used to. Perhaps alcohol or nicotine or whatever else there is would be the better alternative. It’s certainly better than selling myself on the street, which I’ve also considered doing out of desperation. Really, I best not get into the things I’ve felt desperate enough to consider for money until I manage to find steady paid work (yes, I’m still looking, for some reason even I fail to understand).
At this point, I’m wondering how much longer I can refuse the desperation or the urges to intoxicate myself. How much longer until I finally decide it’s not worth it and break that promise?
How ironic this should happen just a week after this post.
I had a new experience today. Being desperate to find a job, I tried my hand a temp agency that was close to me and I’d learned about from a flyer. I went yesterday, but I didn’t have my social security card, so I had to return tomorrow, but I was given the word of being sent to a particular nearby town I knew of to begin working. It sounded too good to be true to me, but as I said, I was desperate, so I agreed. Later, I asked several people if the offer sounded legitimate and everyone I asked agreed it was. So, I was hopeful.
I should’ve listened to my instincts.
I woke at 4:40 am and left my house an hour later to arrive at the agency at 6 AM, as I’d agreed. The worker there took my card and ID, and accepted them. After waiting for about a half hour and a few more people coming, there was a van ready to escort those who’d shown up to the other town to work. I was nervous, but I assumed this was how temp agencies operate. I got in the van with the others and off we went.
This is where I went wrong.
I didn’t have any reason to believe things had changed from what I was told yesterday, so I questioned nothing. However, it took me only a short time to realize that van was not going where I’d been told I’d be sent to. The passenger next to me called the worker at the agency to ask what happened and, apparently, the employer in the first city cancelled the plan to take temps. So, instead, we were going to a much farther town, which I was familiar with, but did not know my way around. I was immediately dismayed.
To top it off, too many temps had been sent, so only the ones who had previous experience with the work needed to be done were allowed to work (how in the world do you attain work experience without ever getting the chance to work?). That meant the rest of us had to be sent home. I went from dismayed to furious. The van that dropped us off was supposed to return, but I don’t know if it ever did because in the end, my family came to pick me up. I felt terrible for all the trouble I’d caused and at the moment, I still do. So much trouble, all out of desperation for work.
That is my first experience with a temp agency and it will be my last.
When I got home, I almost immediately fell asleep, but after I woke up, I laid in bed for several hours, fighting against crying. The urge to drink was extremely strong and I searched through Google for very strong alcohol brands I could hopefully purchase to intoxicate myself tonight. The intention was to get drunk enough to forget today ever happened, but if it killed me, I wouldn’t have exactly been dissatisfied. After all, when I am so incapable of doing what’s supposed to be the simplest responsibility of adulthood – hold a job – what use do I have to society?
I’ve decided to return to solely applying for jobs, but the deep truth is I’ve given up. I have no more hope of finding any employed work. I have no more hope of making something of myself. I have no more hope of being a useful adult. I don’t expect my life to change or to ever be in a position where I’m supporting myself. I wonder if my promise to myself to avoid drugs and alcohol is truly worth it because it seems I have zero to lose. My friends will eventually move on with their lives, my family will not be able to continue supporting me, and I’ll be left behind. There is really nothing at all I have to lose. Of course, I’d need money to obtain alcohol to begin with, so I couldn’t do so much as an addiction correctly.
There is a hole in my heart from this knowledge and I’ll never be able to fill it. I will die with it. I don’t expect to live out of my twenties. But it may be for the better. I have nothing to offer. Why am I still here? Why should I be here?
It’s funny how no matter how much goodness there is in the world, it still pales in comparison to the opposite, whether on a massive scale or a much smaller, more personal one.
I don’t consider myself a horrible person. I’ve never broken the law. I’ve willingly helped people and enjoyed doing so. I’ve helped out at community events, helped clean up a beach, volunteered my time at a food bank, and looked after others’ children. I’m kind to and have helped my best friend and my boyfriend. I’ve stayed up all night multiple times to be there for someone I cared about dealing with a rough night, online and offline. I don’t have any bigotries.
I don’t sound like an awful person and I would hope I’m not. Yet I deal with feelings of worthlessness all the time for one reason and one reason only: I’ve never had a job.
That fact alone makes me feel like I am little more than a plague on society who’d have been better off not existing. I don’t think about it when I’m around others, but when I’m alone, the thought often creeps in and I question if any of the above really matters. I fear losing the positive relationships I have due to losing the respect of those of I care about for being jobless. I question why, if I could make the action to end things painless, I choose to remain alive. I question why I can’t do this one thing it seems everyone has done multiple times by my age, no matter how hard I try. I question if I’m really worth anything, and if what I listed above are merely distractions or ways to make up for my lack of being a contributing member to society.
I’ve lost the ability to see myself in any position different from the one I’m in. This is the only way I can picture myself when I’m 30, 40, 50 years old, assuming I live that long. A small part of me doesn’t want to see any more future birthdays, not even 2017’s. I fear reaching yet another age.
Then, there’s a part of me that feels very selfish. I visited my best friend this past Friday and she briefly vented to me about her job. She has had her job for a full year, but she abhors it and wants a different one. Shortly after, she showed me the new phone she’d gotten. While I still felt sympathy for her troubles at work, a part of me still felt envious solely because she has a job. One she hates and could never live off of, but a job nonetheless. Of course, I kept my feelings to myself and didn’t tell her, but the truth is would it not leave her jobless instead of me, I’d switch places with her immediately if it were possible.
I don’t believe I will ever fit in as a functioning societal member and it’s not a thought that makes me happy. I want to work and I want to be a contributor, but so far, my efforts have resulted in nothing more than rejection and more questions of my own worth. Yes, I’m aware many people experience joblessness, but I believe most of those people had already worked a minimum of two jobs by my age whereas my work experience is absolutely blank.
I hate I have this feeling. I hate the feeling of everything I do meaning nothing because it doesn’t compare to me working and paying for myself to the extent a job would allow me to. I hate this feeling overshadows everything. I know a job is nowhere near fun and I’d likely feel the same as my best friend if I did find a job. I know the difference between imagined expectations and reality, as it’s led to changes in what were my long-term goals. In spite of that, my self-worth is still in question due to my lack of any employment within my lifetime. I feel I could save someone from certain death, and still see myself as having contributed nothing to society when I later returned home.
I remember being a child and believing adults had everything figured out. After all, that’s why adults were in charge of children instead of the other way around. At least, that’s essentially what I was told. I’ve already been looked down on for my age multiple times and I know I will always be sneered at for it by people older than me, no matter what age I’m at. I’ve seen adults whose maturity was outmatched by children look down their noses at me for being younger than them. Age means a lot beyond the laws in society. I’ve not yet found the age where I’m an adult who has everything figured out like the adults I met as a child did. Supposedly, that age does not exist, but I wonder if it really does and I’m one of those people who hasn’t caught up to it yet. I really don’t know what adulthood is supposed to be, but I know I’m doing every ounce of it wrongly.
I’m part of a Facebook group for depression and self-harm support, and someone recently posted this image.
Some people said yes and some said no. The answers were about evenly spread. Mine was as follows:
I want to say yes, but I’d lose my boyfriend and best friend, so I say no.
There’s more to it than that, but I didn’t want to go deep into answering the question at the moment.
If I reset my life, I’d lose everything, which means my life would most likely happen identically to how it already has. Resetting would be pointless. I might grow up in a different generation if resetting meant simply reverting my life to newborn instead of reversing time as well, but that’s it.
I used to say I would go back in time and prevent my existence if I could. On occasion, I still feel that way, but the feeling is rare now. Were this question posed to me back in 2012 and I would retain memory of my current life, I would be tempted to say yes, if only to fix the mistakes I’ve made. However, the full truth is I’d prefer death over repeating any part of my life prior to 2012.
No, I’m not totally in love with my life as it is now. I’m having a hard time. I’ve yet to be able to find a job, I can’t return to school for at least two more years, my family is irreparable, and I live with someone whose biggest priority is how my hair looks, to the point I’ve had to assure certain people there isn’t any sexual abuse going on in my house because without the knowledge he’s a family member, he sounds like a controlling partner. I don’t see myself as an adult and feel like a worthless member of society much of the time. I could definitely be doing better.
At the same time, it’s taken me a long time to finally reach a point where I can genuinely feel glad I have my life. My best friend and my boyfriend aren’t the only reasons I’m happy, but they are a big part of why I feel the way do. If I were somehow promised they’d be waiting for me, I still would refuse the chance to reset my life. Why miss out on that time with them? Not to mention how unfair it’d be to have them wait on me or forcibly reset their lives along with mine.
Naturally, my feelings do flip-flop a lot, but overall, my answer at the moment to this question is no. No, I would not reset my life if given the chance. I’m not willing to go through everything I’ve experienced again and I’m absolutely unwilling to lose any more people than I’ve already lost.