Lost
I'm writing this because I need to say something and I don't have anyone's email on this computer, they're all on my Outlook, which is on my laptop and won't connect to the internet from here.
I just submitted my first, ever, job application.
And I feel completely lost.
It's really weird, I want to cry, I can't quite breathe properly, it sort of hurts.
It's my ideal job in pretty much my ideal place. I wasn't going to apply for it. I'm not going to get it bar some miracle, and I don't believe in miracles - strange, unexplainable happenings, yes - but not miracles. And I thought that, if by some miracle, which I don't believe in, I did get it, it would be selfish of me to take it, leave my sister and I didn't think I could handle turning it down. But I was convinced this morning to apply for it, basically 16 hours before the dead-line, so went into a spin of worry, panic, self-recrimination, frantic typing of letter I have no idea how to write, more panic, venting via email, running to emergency councellor appointment, talking it all out for 50 minutes, calming down, sitting down to actually get letter written, not monkey-typed, get home, beg sister for help, cook dinner, type some more, beg for help, watch telly while sister makes letter make sense and makes list of things still needed, they go bizarko and panic again because my brain is fried from thinking about this too much and calling mother, finally getting the rest written, taking the laptop into my sister in bed for final check, then onto the other computer to complete the application form, and submit the whole chaotic mess.
Now I just feel lost.
I'm not going to get the job, I'm under no illusions about that at all, especially not with the UK, understandably, if frustratingly over-protecting local employment, and my non-existent work experience - it is irritatingly true that if you haven't had work it is extremely difficult to get work. Yes, I will probably feel terribly disappointed when they reply that my application is unsuccessful. I will not, now, regret not having applied for the one position I've seen advertised in the last nine months which I could not only fill, but very likely enjoy and would give me six-months of real-life experience working in the UK, which is my nut-case dream for that non-sensical, unexplainable reason that involves place and connection and deep, real history all around me, not just in my head, and is probably just a fantasy, but I won't ever know until I get there.
I feel very alone and very lost, and I should go to bed, but I'm afraid I'll just lie there and feel lost until I cry.
I wish I could write, but nothing comes lately, and lately seems a long time now, six months or so. I seem to have lost the touch, and haven't found the discipline to push through that. So there are two stories sitting half-finished on my computers, and I look at them once a week or so, maybe re-arrange a line, start a sentence, save them three times, then close. My concentration is shot to pieces, I really need to get off these anti-depressants, but I'm scared of where I go without them, they've been a crutch for so many years now. Maybe it's not the anti-depressants, maybe it's just being incurably lazy and being good at plenty, but talented at nothing, and having no toleration for boredom.
I'm tired of being dissatisfied with everything, especially myself. Maybe I'm just tired.
I just submitted my first, ever, job application.
And I feel completely lost.
It's really weird, I want to cry, I can't quite breathe properly, it sort of hurts.
It's my ideal job in pretty much my ideal place. I wasn't going to apply for it. I'm not going to get it bar some miracle, and I don't believe in miracles - strange, unexplainable happenings, yes - but not miracles. And I thought that, if by some miracle, which I don't believe in, I did get it, it would be selfish of me to take it, leave my sister and I didn't think I could handle turning it down. But I was convinced this morning to apply for it, basically 16 hours before the dead-line, so went into a spin of worry, panic, self-recrimination, frantic typing of letter I have no idea how to write, more panic, venting via email, running to emergency councellor appointment, talking it all out for 50 minutes, calming down, sitting down to actually get letter written, not monkey-typed, get home, beg sister for help, cook dinner, type some more, beg for help, watch telly while sister makes letter make sense and makes list of things still needed, they go bizarko and panic again because my brain is fried from thinking about this too much and calling mother, finally getting the rest written, taking the laptop into my sister in bed for final check, then onto the other computer to complete the application form, and submit the whole chaotic mess.
Now I just feel lost.
I'm not going to get the job, I'm under no illusions about that at all, especially not with the UK, understandably, if frustratingly over-protecting local employment, and my non-existent work experience - it is irritatingly true that if you haven't had work it is extremely difficult to get work. Yes, I will probably feel terribly disappointed when they reply that my application is unsuccessful. I will not, now, regret not having applied for the one position I've seen advertised in the last nine months which I could not only fill, but very likely enjoy and would give me six-months of real-life experience working in the UK, which is my nut-case dream for that non-sensical, unexplainable reason that involves place and connection and deep, real history all around me, not just in my head, and is probably just a fantasy, but I won't ever know until I get there.
I feel very alone and very lost, and I should go to bed, but I'm afraid I'll just lie there and feel lost until I cry.
I wish I could write, but nothing comes lately, and lately seems a long time now, six months or so. I seem to have lost the touch, and haven't found the discipline to push through that. So there are two stories sitting half-finished on my computers, and I look at them once a week or so, maybe re-arrange a line, start a sentence, save them three times, then close. My concentration is shot to pieces, I really need to get off these anti-depressants, but I'm scared of where I go without them, they've been a crutch for so many years now. Maybe it's not the anti-depressants, maybe it's just being incurably lazy and being good at plenty, but talented at nothing, and having no toleration for boredom.
I'm tired of being dissatisfied with everything, especially myself. Maybe I'm just tired.