This is a ‘stream of consciousness’ type of post written when I was very close to panicking about my financial situation. No offence was intended. Additionally, those closest to me have been extremely supportive.
Last week, I found out I had lost my main freelancing gig. It was my only freelancing gig. 2014 was such a fucking struggle that I cut down on everything just so I could get my head together. And I did. For the first time in 4 years, I considered myself functional. It’s nice being able to shower regularly and, oh, leave the fucking house. I’ve been looking around for work so I can have money to live off.
I’m not resentful at my landlords – I had more then adequate warning. I’m resentful at the timing of the job loss, at the situation itself. I am SO FUCKING SMART. I am an incredibly intelligent person. I can say that without feeling like I’m bragging because it’s true. One of the gifts of my anxiety disorder is that my brain can process information on a completely different level to most people. Which works against me when it’s processing information about perceived threats, or the amount of information it’s processing overwhelms me.
I’ve been looking at job boards. I have had two ‘normal’ short term part time jobs since I was old enough to start working. I’ve had a smattering of freelance clients. I’m knowledgeable about my industry and have a solid portfolio but this doesn’t matter in the world of real employment. I don’t even know if I’m physically and mentally capable of handling a normal job.
Is this what my fucking life is reduced to? I will probably be seeking help from Centrelink and asking to see someone at a disability support agency. I’m so scared that no-one will help me because I present well. I always have. It made things very difficult when I was seeking help in the early days. And what type of job will they be able to find?
I need something that has little possibility of conflict, a low amount of stress and minimal interaction with people. Do you know how many entry level jobs that knocks out? I’m worried they’ll ask me to work more then 15 hours a week.
I can’t return to the level of exhaustion I was at last year. I don’t want to get back into the centrelink system where they judge you against their preconceived notions of ‘slackers’. The fact that I’m actually trying to better my life shows that I’m not slack.
This makes me even more of a liability to Glenn. I mean, what’s the point in even being in this fucking relationship anymore? I’m just a liability that promises things will get better soon while using his inheritance money to survive. The housing situation is also a matter of extreme stress. How the fuck am I going to find an affordable rental with two cats? The cats that my family asked me to keep, because they couldn’t bear the thought of putting them down. I wouldn’t give them up – I love them too much. I need them.
There is the possibility of getting work from people I don’t know. That scares me too much and I know it leaves me open to massive criticism. It’s so easy to get screwed over with online freelancing. Two past employers have done that. I need to work with people I know and trust. The only issue is, I’ve intentionally cut down the amount of people that I know.
My sister has a friend that is looking for someone to work 20 hours a week. I’m to scared to even inquire because if it goes wrong, family will hear about it. I do not want to have to educate another newbie about social.
I want work that is safe. Where my limitations are understood and respected. Part of me is even thinking about returning to study as a short term plan for money, but I’m doubtful it will increase my employment prospects. Am I even likely to stay in the workforce longterm?
It’s so demeaning to be in this position. Not just because I’m smart. Because I work hard. I try to do the best.
I’m so, so tired of continually fighting to try and improve my life. I’m sick of constantly fighting and sacrificing. I want money. I want stability.
Now I feel sleepy because I was crying while writing this. This may be one of the reasons I don’t blog here as frequently as I’d like. Not crying is good