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I keep feeling that I’ve hit the end of the line. It gets to a point when you just have no more resources within yourself left to draw on. So many jobs that he’s perfect for, so many interviews that have been nailed. So many weeks checking email and messages waiting for that offer to come and the anticipation that you swore you wouldn’t give in to after so many rejections, only to have it all dashed again. So much time wasted. Hours and hours of work that go into the résumé, the cover letter, the thank-you notes, the phone interviews, the commute into the interview, the gas and train fare, the dry cleaning bills, the networking, the printer ink… and with one terse email, it’s all been for nothing and you dont have anything else to move on to. And they don’t give you an explanation or feedback or anything, and they don’t owe you, and they even now are in a position of power over you so you can’t ask for even that one little thing; where did it go wrong? How do we start this whole process all over again?
And now we are coming into the holiday season, and we know that there is no way he is going to be working before Christmas, and companies are on hold essentially until the New Year, and every résumé you send out is even more likely to languish in some HR hell hole. But my kids are starting to notice that something is dreadfully wrong with mama and dada, and I don’t know what to tell them anymore.
It’s torture. It’s torture. I’m not overstating this. My adrenal glands are frazzled. This is torture.
We just got our final unemployment check. $600 that is going to have to last for………ever. We also just had to turn on our heat. J had an interview, but he has had a lot of interviews. It went really well, but they all go really well. We are sitting around, waiting but we are always waiting. I applied for a job answering the phone and taking orders at a local pizza place. They needed someone who speaks English. I didn’t get the job. Seasonal help at a local department store chain restocking at night is the next step. I hope they will consider someone with a Master’s degree.
Baby, it’s cold outside. It’s also depressing outside, so sometimes one just needs to self-medicate*. I think this calls for my favorite winter drink, a hot toddy.
Get a huge and well insulated mug that will stay nice and hot for long enough to sip the whole thing down. Put about a tablespoon of honey in the bottom, toss in a slice of lemon and about an ounce of dark rum (or, whiskey if you’re so inclined). Brew a cuppa tea. I particularly love the Ginger Tea made by Yogi, though I think it may have been dumbed down lately. It used to be much stronger. Sometimes I will add an additional slice of fresh ginger to the water to strong it up. When your tea is ready, top off your big giant mug. Enjoy it, because it will make you warm and happy, something I cherish a lot more these days then I used to.
*No, I’m not advocating that you drink your worries away. Your worries will still be there after your toddy is long gone. And, please don’t drink and drive. Really. This is something you should enjoy in the relative comfort of your own home. Driving drunk is about one of the most selfish and irresponsible acts, so don’t fucking do it.
It’s hard to be optimistic for so long. It’s hard to always try to look on the bright side. It can be rather tiring after so long to be the cheerleader. A couple of weeks ago one of our cars started bucking and the engine light went on. Since we can’t afford any big repairs, we just have been driving the other car. The other car can’t pass inspection, so it has been overdue since June. Every time I drive it, I’m scanning for cops who will pull me over and give me a fat ticket and a deadline to get it done. I know that when it happens, I’ll break down crying and I just hope they dont think that I’m being a manipulative jerk. Well, tonight it gave out. It was two hours past the kids bedtime and we were at my parents house 30 miles from home. Both cars gone. Both needing major repairs. Kids crying and whining to go home and go to bed. And we are supposed to be on the road at 7:00 the following morning to get to my nieces birthday party in New Hampshire. Sometimes it feels like every straw is the last straw.
You start to look around your house and see everything falling apart around you; doors falling of hinges, all the dinner plates are cracked, drinking out of mason jars because the glasses are broken, it gets harder to find clothes in the closet that aren’t stained and ripped. The little things keep getting bigger and pile on. There seems to be no end in sight. You wonder if you’re going to be Miss Haversham, or Norma Desmond living in your rotting castle dreaming of the past. Sometimes the pressure makes your eyes burn and when you look at your kids you panic. The future seems less bright every day that goes by, and you feel yourself giving up hope. You just feel it slipping away, and looking at what a studio apartment costs per month. If it wasn’t for the kids, this would be easy. If it wasnt for the birthday parties you are invited to and can’t afford to get presents for and hope no one notices. If it wasn’t for the weddings you have to go to two thousand miles away in 11 months, 9 months, 6 months….
You wish you could afford to be depressed. You start fantasizing about staying in bed all day and sleeping it off, taking so many Benadryl that you can just sleep and sleep until something good falls in your lap. Then, the overwhelming guilt washes through you, reminding you how horrible you are for complaining while you still have a home, and your kids still have food, and youre here complaining about not having a car when there are children in refugee camps in the Congo. How dare you, you self-indulgent jerk. You go to bed, and wake up and the cheerleader face goes right back on in the morning.