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i'm trying to use this journal for complaining now since i feel embarrassed just putting it out on tumblr nowadays

i came to a conclusion recently.

the crux of my problem is that i'm honestly terrified of the prospect of being employed again. i just keep getting flashbacks to all my previous jobs, which were all so sickeningly awful that i regularly had breakdowns in the bathroom. in part because of my own brokenness, and the job/boss/conditions/whatever itself being terrible and insane.

that, and i was always so miserable and lonely since i lived alone and had no friends/contacts/anything. i ended up looking forward to seeing my parents again just to have people around.

in a lot of ways all that seemed more hellish than just living here in the hoard with my abusers. they seemed like the only people who would ever accept/tolerate me irl. they are the devil i know very well and the rest of the world seems like a different hell i can't handle.

so i can barely motivate myself to try to do school or learn anything, if it's all in the service of pursuing a nightmare.

so my future seems like a choice between two different kinds of misery. the one i'm in now is easier than the other, but it also makes it prohibitively difficult for me to get any kind of help (i'm terrified of the idea of my parents finding out i want to find a doctor or a therapist or anything).

the other choice is active agony rather than passive despair but it's the only way i'd be really able to go get help safely, go volunteer anywhere.. idk.

i don't know why i'm so scared or worried about what my parents think.

i don't know why i'm so utterly convinced any job i could possibly get will be as fuck awful terrible as my last three jobs were. i don't even apply to jobs anymore, not out of the fear that i won't get it, but out of fear that i will. i'm scared to even apply to retail places because at least my cushy white collar jobs were lax enough that they let me go have an aneurysm in the bathroom if i was at the end of my rope.

the only job i had that didn't give me this crushing sense of being overwhelmed and undeserving of it was my very, very first job, a two week stint i had at a cabinet shop my dad worked at. it was bitterly cold and i coughed up blood and sawdust at the end of every day but at least i always had something to do and the tasks were simple and obvious enough that i felt a sense of progress and accomplishment. i could just sit and listen to my mp3 player all day and sand wood. it was kind of cathartic

and i had enough trouble dealing with the same coworkers i saw every day, i don't know if i could survive dealing with tons of strangers constantly under a lot of pressure (ie any given retail/fast food position).

sometimes i wonder if i could get a job cleaning stuff since that always calms me down. some kind of really mind-numbing manual labor.

i can almost start to hope i could have a job that i didn't dread to the very seat of my soul if i think of doing something with nonprofits, or helping people somehow, or maybe teaching or academia. i'll never give a fuck about programming or computer science for its own end. i don't want to do enterprise shit and i don't want to work for fucking startups. but making technology to help make people's lives better or preserve/share knowledge has an appeal.

i wanted to do volunteering since the bar of expectations is relatively low and i wouldn't have the dilemma of worrying whether or not i 'deserved' it.

sometimes i fantasize about being on disability or something and being able to live away from my parents and spend time volunteering and going to therapy as often as i needed until i felt like i was sane enough to rejoin the world, maybe doing online college

but that really just seems like a fantasy

edit: looking at how disability works, yeah, they'd probably just use any volunteering i did as proof i 'could' work. sigh. it's hard enough for people with real conditions to get disability
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superuser | jas

September 2014

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