And now a list...
...of all the things that make me feel inadequate and ready to leave the country again:
Lack of income - While I'm fortunate enough to have the small tutoring/teaching gig, I also don't make enough to live on my own. $600 a month is pathetic, considering that 1/3 of that goes to getting to said "job." My credit cards are nearly maxed out, and I have no way of paying for them unless I blow my savings, in which means, I'll have to spend another couple of years building up that financial security again.
Emotional insecurity - This past February, after being verbally abused day after day by my former boss, I was fired. I hate to say I fall into the category of women that would rather be subjected to punishment, but to leave a company I ran on my own for a year on such ill terms makes me feel like I cannot, and will not, be able to do anything more with my life - ever. My resume has been tainted.
General wanderlust - I didn't have enough time in Europe. In a foreign country, it was easy to set aside my phone, and every other source of communication. I could spend the day in the countryside without a worry. It was completely freeing, and I'm dying to have that sense of adventure again.
Loneliness - Lately, I've had it about to here with people and their babies and boyfriends, only to find I want one of my own. The latter, obviously. Admittedly, while I enjoy my single life, I wish I had someone to share those special moments with, too. Yet, there seems to be no one willing to hold my hand.
No motivation - There is always someone better out there in everything and anything you do. Once my talents are matched up against someone else's, I simply don't care to press forward. And other times, the moment I begin doing something creative, I stop because I know I won't succeed or impress myself with my creations. This is especially true for none more than writing. I can't tell you how many times I've been inspired to write, only to get to the document page and cry my eyes out because I can't crank out more than a paragraph without wanting to put it through figurative shredder.
Claustrophobia - My life feels like it is at a dead end. I can't be more than this, and I'm suffocating under that feeling. It hurts to believe this is what my potential is when I always envisioned there was so much more waiting for me. Perhaps there is, but after the countless failures of the year, I can only anticipate more disappointment.
Lack of income - While I'm fortunate enough to have the small tutoring/teaching gig, I also don't make enough to live on my own. $600 a month is pathetic, considering that 1/3 of that goes to getting to said "job." My credit cards are nearly maxed out, and I have no way of paying for them unless I blow my savings, in which means, I'll have to spend another couple of years building up that financial security again.
Emotional insecurity - This past February, after being verbally abused day after day by my former boss, I was fired. I hate to say I fall into the category of women that would rather be subjected to punishment, but to leave a company I ran on my own for a year on such ill terms makes me feel like I cannot, and will not, be able to do anything more with my life - ever. My resume has been tainted.
General wanderlust - I didn't have enough time in Europe. In a foreign country, it was easy to set aside my phone, and every other source of communication. I could spend the day in the countryside without a worry. It was completely freeing, and I'm dying to have that sense of adventure again.
Loneliness - Lately, I've had it about to here with people and their babies and boyfriends, only to find I want one of my own. The latter, obviously. Admittedly, while I enjoy my single life, I wish I had someone to share those special moments with, too. Yet, there seems to be no one willing to hold my hand.
No motivation - There is always someone better out there in everything and anything you do. Once my talents are matched up against someone else's, I simply don't care to press forward. And other times, the moment I begin doing something creative, I stop because I know I won't succeed or impress myself with my creations. This is especially true for none more than writing. I can't tell you how many times I've been inspired to write, only to get to the document page and cry my eyes out because I can't crank out more than a paragraph without wanting to put it through figurative shredder.
Claustrophobia - My life feels like it is at a dead end. I can't be more than this, and I'm suffocating under that feeling. It hurts to believe this is what my potential is when I always envisioned there was so much more waiting for me. Perhaps there is, but after the countless failures of the year, I can only anticipate more disappointment.