Today, I found out that there won’t be a decision on the job I want until January. Keep in mind that this is a job that I originally applied for in either late September or early October. I’ve honestly forgotten at this point, it’s taking so freaking long. I won’t go into my whole sorry financial life, as I know many people are struggling lately, but suffice it to say that I’m down to the very end of my rope, clinging on by my fingernails and straight up stubbornness. I need this job, that’s really all there is to it. And I feel as though my life is on hold while I am waiting. It is very frustrating. Which is not to say that I haven’t been looking at other options. I have. I’ve applied for so many jobs that I’ve lost count. But so far, nothing. I need this job. It is the best one, it offers the most opportunities, it pays the most money. Come on, universe. Please?
I did discover that there is free counseling available if you are willing to see a masters intern. So I am going to try it out, because you never know. I just want to make sure I am doing everything within my power to keep my head straight over the winter. I can’t afford to lose my grip, and as I’ve mentioned before, winter is a cold and icy bitch that storms into my life once every year and tries to steal my soul. It is hard to deal with winter in a good year, let alone one like this one, full of financial and relationship woes, and general life upheavals. I have an appointment for next week, so we’ll see what happens. I will say that just the simple act of writing, whether it is here on this blog or in my journals, has really helped me lately, but I think I need more. Hopefully this can be my more.
My main concern, emotionally, is that I can feel myself slipping into a numbness, into the lethargy and apathy of depression. I’m actually considering going back on my pills, just for a bit, even though they’ve never been my favorite thing. That is a gross understatement, actually. They smooth out the jagged edges, sure, but they also obliterate the necessary sharpness . . . of wit, of mind, of creativity. I don’t know. I also tend to feel that I shouldn’t need additional assistance, that medicating myself is admitting weakness, or some such bullshit. My typical pattern is to wait until I am literally unable to get out of bed or off the floor and then to seek out help, or have help foisted upon me. But this time is different, because I have a son, who needs me. So I am trying to be proactive. Everything I am doing, I am doing for him.