My Apologies in Advance
I'm not quite sure why I find it such a relief to vent on this journal. Maybe because no one knows that I have this account IRL, and no one who knows this account online knows who I am. I rarely update it. Doubtlessly, this has given the virtual impression of me being a self-hating, angsty teen. I'm really not. Generally, I'm happy-go-lucky, kinda quirky, artsy, crafty woman in her early 20s. I'm genuine and caring--and a lot of people respond well to my candidness.
But lately it's been a struggle to make it through my days without crying. I take breaks at work so that I can cry quietly in the bathroom. I'm a Loan Processor for a big mortgage company. Had I been pressed a few years ago to name a job at which I would be the most ill-suited, I could not have come up with a better match than my current job. I hate disappointing people, doing things last minute, getting yelled at and having to be the bad guy--but I'm in a job where I deal with those things daily.
I look at the gorgeous photographs that I took on my cubicle wall that everyone tells me should be in magazines. I crochet and sew items that people are amazed I can make. My cooking melts in your mouth and my baking hits everyone's sweet spot. I doodle on hold, and had a woman ask if she could keep my drawing--and if I could sign it. And yet I sit in my little cubicle, doing a tedious job that I hate, away from everything that inspires me, and I can almost feel my life's essence slipping through my fingers.
I want to escape, so badly that it hurts. I want to pick up and leave and travel across the world. I scored top marks in Forensic Science class and Bio-Technology, but I'm treated like an idiot at work because I'm not a perfect robot. I hate the way this job is making me feel so lost, incompetent and insecure. I've always been so confident and known exactly who I am and what I can do. To lose that may be losing who I am.
I had finally stopped having panic attacks a few years ago. Today, I had another one after work--just thinking about the messes and disasters that I had inadvertently created.
My life feels stagnant, and I fear that I'll never escape the hold that my job has on me. It's good pay, but I don't have enough saved to leave and go back to college. I'm working on losing weight, but it's just not happening for me quick enough--I keep backsliding. I would love to join the Air Force, but in the shape I'm in, it'll never happen.
I wonder if this is how everyone started out at my age. Maybe the horror just stops renewing each day, and you just sink into this grim acceptance that life has nothing better to offer you. You stop taking chances, and stop dreaming because it just hurts to think of something for yourself that you don't think you can ever have. I'm finally starting to understand that mindset--and that scares me. I've always been different. I don't want to lose that.
Even knowing what's happening, I still reach for dessert when I'm upset, or a big bowl of mac&cheese. I'm so disgusted with myself and my willpower. I don't know how to work up the motivation to change for good when I'm struggling just to hold on to my creativity.
I know it's stupid and naive, but I think I subconsciously keep waiting for my fairy godmother to arrive, take one look at the mess my life is in and say, "Oh this won't do at all!", wave her magic wand and fix everything.
Since I'm definitely no princess--I've got better things to do than stand around and wait for some Prince Charming, or act like a decoration, I'd better get my act together. I need to find the determination to be my own Fairy Godmother.
But lately it's been a struggle to make it through my days without crying. I take breaks at work so that I can cry quietly in the bathroom. I'm a Loan Processor for a big mortgage company. Had I been pressed a few years ago to name a job at which I would be the most ill-suited, I could not have come up with a better match than my current job. I hate disappointing people, doing things last minute, getting yelled at and having to be the bad guy--but I'm in a job where I deal with those things daily.
I look at the gorgeous photographs that I took on my cubicle wall that everyone tells me should be in magazines. I crochet and sew items that people are amazed I can make. My cooking melts in your mouth and my baking hits everyone's sweet spot. I doodle on hold, and had a woman ask if she could keep my drawing--and if I could sign it. And yet I sit in my little cubicle, doing a tedious job that I hate, away from everything that inspires me, and I can almost feel my life's essence slipping through my fingers.
I want to escape, so badly that it hurts. I want to pick up and leave and travel across the world. I scored top marks in Forensic Science class and Bio-Technology, but I'm treated like an idiot at work because I'm not a perfect robot. I hate the way this job is making me feel so lost, incompetent and insecure. I've always been so confident and known exactly who I am and what I can do. To lose that may be losing who I am.
I had finally stopped having panic attacks a few years ago. Today, I had another one after work--just thinking about the messes and disasters that I had inadvertently created.
My life feels stagnant, and I fear that I'll never escape the hold that my job has on me. It's good pay, but I don't have enough saved to leave and go back to college. I'm working on losing weight, but it's just not happening for me quick enough--I keep backsliding. I would love to join the Air Force, but in the shape I'm in, it'll never happen.
I wonder if this is how everyone started out at my age. Maybe the horror just stops renewing each day, and you just sink into this grim acceptance that life has nothing better to offer you. You stop taking chances, and stop dreaming because it just hurts to think of something for yourself that you don't think you can ever have. I'm finally starting to understand that mindset--and that scares me. I've always been different. I don't want to lose that.
Even knowing what's happening, I still reach for dessert when I'm upset, or a big bowl of mac&cheese. I'm so disgusted with myself and my willpower. I don't know how to work up the motivation to change for good when I'm struggling just to hold on to my creativity.
I know it's stupid and naive, but I think I subconsciously keep waiting for my fairy godmother to arrive, take one look at the mess my life is in and say, "Oh this won't do at all!", wave her magic wand and fix everything.
Since I'm definitely no princess--I've got better things to do than stand around and wait for some Prince Charming, or act like a decoration, I'd better get my act together. I need to find the determination to be my own Fairy Godmother.