In My Feelings
Contrary to popular culture, I will not be writing this blog from the outside of a moving car, because that's STUPID. Let's get this show on the road...pun not intended but that's funny anyway. Whatever.
Hooooooooooly shitbricks, where do I begin...
The last few months have been...challenging. Life has been a minefield, and I've had my face blasted off more times than I'm ok with. They say things come in threes, and I was hit with a double, and at this point I can say with certainty that getting hit by a bus would have been more convenient.
I'll start from the top, since shit rolls downhill.
In early July, after being physically, mentally, financially and emotionally wrung the fuck out, I lost my job. On one hand, I was completely blindsided. I had no warnings, no misconduct, no indication that this was coming. On the other, for weeks before that, things were rough in the office. I had asked..begged for a raise. I felt justified in asking, I know I deserved it. I was denied, because 'there was no room in the budget'. After teaching myself how to do the job, then literally getting handed the entire ship to run and keep afloat, they decided to bring in a new guy fresh off the block to take over as "manager". Budget smudget. It didn't matter that I was already doing the job, and well, for someone with absolutely zero prior experience and training, I was the sudden office pariah-slash-punching bag who couldn't seem to do anything correctly. This was after a smoke blowing conference call with my boss and her boss where they crowed about what an 'asset' I was, and how I would be 'inheriting the branch', and other commendations about my awesomeness. Now I just want to karate chop them all in the throat.
Despite my best efforts, New Manager and I didn't gel- a big part of it was her fault because she was a smug bitch, but I take my own responsibility for being justifiably bitter. In the end, I got 86'd, and Smug Bitch got to keep the throne. It's cool tho, I'm not mad anymore. Everyone has to peak sometime.
My financial status was kinda rough before losing my job, and I was struggling pretty hard to keep everything paid. I was working damn near 60 hour weeks and still getting (terribly) paid at 40, and I was always falling short somewhere, including my insanely high rent. After losing my job, I spent a week in Indiana helping my mom after surgery, because I have free time now so why the fuck not. It makes sense that my next punch in the face would come while I was there, in the form of a 5 day notice. GREAT. I'm in Bumfuck, Indiana, 4 hours from home, and have no way to throw myself at the mercy of the property manager, can't just pack up and go home to fix my shit, and oh yeah, I have no money. At this point, I was looking for a bridge to jump from.
In the midst of all this, the little distance that started to grow between Flaco and me turned into Death Valley. It started small..those cute little texts we sent all day dwindled, I stopped getting so much as a 'Good Morning', our visits slowed, then stopped, and by the time I lost my job, we hadn't seen each other or spoken much for a few weeks. I have suspicions that he found someone else to keep him company- he was going out alot and definitely wasn't inviting me along, and he sure as fuck wasn't going alone. I know we didn't have a commitment, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't heartbroken. Actually, that's a lie too- it felt like the final blow to someone who was already struggling to stand.
It felt like I lost everything. My little nagging bit of depression went full blown Black Spiral, easily worse than any bout I've ever had, which says a lot because I've had some motherfucking ragers. Just getting out of bed was a monumental task. I stayed in pajamas all day unless I absolutely had to leave the house, but as soon as I got home, my trusty ugly clothes were waiting for me. I only showered because the compulsion to not be the 'smelly gross fat lady' is drilled into my human condition, like breathing and swallowing. I'll take it as a win since I don't have many of those these days. If I did leave the house, it was on a quest of self preservation, jogging to and from social service agencies to try to save my house- again, homelessness>depression. My pride is pretty much gone at this point. I have no desire to tend to friendships or familial relationships. I barely speak to my kids. I don't want to clean but messes give me anxiety. I realized I have anxiety issues, which gives me anxiety and basically collapses in on itself. I'm easily pissed off, and I rage the fuck out, but it burns out after 90 seconds because I don't give enough of a shit about anything to stay mad about it- let's hear it for apathy, ladies and gentlemen. I don't cry a lot because I'm numb, but when it does happen, I don't know how to turn it off. Oh, and the self hate is reeeal. I'm worse than a teenage girl. I'm not someone who is good with failure, but there's my whole life, spectacularly going down in flames.
But, as they say, what goes down must come up.
Last week, I spent two hours at an interview for a job I really wanted but didn't think I would actually get. I kicked ass during this interview. Came fully prepared. Hit the most terrible, 'put you on the spot ' interview questions out of the park. Asked the right questions. Ninja'd the shit out of it. Left the building beating myself up when I should have been high five-ing my damn self.
Two days ago they offered me the job. I yelled the house down.
Right after, I found out that the salary is 12k more a year than the last job. The salary is more than I've ever made in my life. I'm in a whole new tax bracket. I now want to send the Smug Bitch and my old boss flowers and a copy of my job offer and tell them both to eat shit.
This news has also put me back in the good graces of my landlord, so for now, I still live here and can breathe again. I have a hill to climb to get square, but I have an army of ducks in a row. Still thinkin about a GoFundMe page, but that's just me brainstorming.
Aaand of course, to round everything out, Flaco Joe is once again sniffing around. He told me he missed me today- he's never said that. I didn't say it back because fuck him. The fact that I missed him back is irrelevant, because he sucks, and I didn't invite him over even though I crave his smell and his face and his skin and his smile crinkles like I'm actually starving for them.
It's 230 in the morning, but maybe I can still call him...
Hooooooooooly shitbricks, where do I begin...
The last few months have been...challenging. Life has been a minefield, and I've had my face blasted off more times than I'm ok with. They say things come in threes, and I was hit with a double, and at this point I can say with certainty that getting hit by a bus would have been more convenient.
I'll start from the top, since shit rolls downhill.
In early July, after being physically, mentally, financially and emotionally wrung the fuck out, I lost my job. On one hand, I was completely blindsided. I had no warnings, no misconduct, no indication that this was coming. On the other, for weeks before that, things were rough in the office. I had asked..begged for a raise. I felt justified in asking, I know I deserved it. I was denied, because 'there was no room in the budget'. After teaching myself how to do the job, then literally getting handed the entire ship to run and keep afloat, they decided to bring in a new guy fresh off the block to take over as "manager". Budget smudget. It didn't matter that I was already doing the job, and well, for someone with absolutely zero prior experience and training, I was the sudden office pariah-slash-punching bag who couldn't seem to do anything correctly. This was after a smoke blowing conference call with my boss and her boss where they crowed about what an 'asset' I was, and how I would be 'inheriting the branch', and other commendations about my awesomeness. Now I just want to karate chop them all in the throat.
Despite my best efforts, New Manager and I didn't gel- a big part of it was her fault because she was a smug bitch, but I take my own responsibility for being justifiably bitter. In the end, I got 86'd, and Smug Bitch got to keep the throne. It's cool tho, I'm not mad anymore. Everyone has to peak sometime.
My financial status was kinda rough before losing my job, and I was struggling pretty hard to keep everything paid. I was working damn near 60 hour weeks and still getting (terribly) paid at 40, and I was always falling short somewhere, including my insanely high rent. After losing my job, I spent a week in Indiana helping my mom after surgery, because I have free time now so why the fuck not. It makes sense that my next punch in the face would come while I was there, in the form of a 5 day notice. GREAT. I'm in Bumfuck, Indiana, 4 hours from home, and have no way to throw myself at the mercy of the property manager, can't just pack up and go home to fix my shit, and oh yeah, I have no money. At this point, I was looking for a bridge to jump from.
In the midst of all this, the little distance that started to grow between Flaco and me turned into Death Valley. It started small..those cute little texts we sent all day dwindled, I stopped getting so much as a 'Good Morning', our visits slowed, then stopped, and by the time I lost my job, we hadn't seen each other or spoken much for a few weeks. I have suspicions that he found someone else to keep him company- he was going out alot and definitely wasn't inviting me along, and he sure as fuck wasn't going alone. I know we didn't have a commitment, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't heartbroken. Actually, that's a lie too- it felt like the final blow to someone who was already struggling to stand.
It felt like I lost everything. My little nagging bit of depression went full blown Black Spiral, easily worse than any bout I've ever had, which says a lot because I've had some motherfucking ragers. Just getting out of bed was a monumental task. I stayed in pajamas all day unless I absolutely had to leave the house, but as soon as I got home, my trusty ugly clothes were waiting for me. I only showered because the compulsion to not be the 'smelly gross fat lady' is drilled into my human condition, like breathing and swallowing. I'll take it as a win since I don't have many of those these days. If I did leave the house, it was on a quest of self preservation, jogging to and from social service agencies to try to save my house- again, homelessness>depression. My pride is pretty much gone at this point. I have no desire to tend to friendships or familial relationships. I barely speak to my kids. I don't want to clean but messes give me anxiety. I realized I have anxiety issues, which gives me anxiety and basically collapses in on itself. I'm easily pissed off, and I rage the fuck out, but it burns out after 90 seconds because I don't give enough of a shit about anything to stay mad about it- let's hear it for apathy, ladies and gentlemen. I don't cry a lot because I'm numb, but when it does happen, I don't know how to turn it off. Oh, and the self hate is reeeal. I'm worse than a teenage girl. I'm not someone who is good with failure, but there's my whole life, spectacularly going down in flames.
But, as they say, what goes down must come up.
Last week, I spent two hours at an interview for a job I really wanted but didn't think I would actually get. I kicked ass during this interview. Came fully prepared. Hit the most terrible, 'put you on the spot ' interview questions out of the park. Asked the right questions. Ninja'd the shit out of it. Left the building beating myself up when I should have been high five-ing my damn self.
Two days ago they offered me the job. I yelled the house down.
Right after, I found out that the salary is 12k more a year than the last job. The salary is more than I've ever made in my life. I'm in a whole new tax bracket. I now want to send the Smug Bitch and my old boss flowers and a copy of my job offer and tell them both to eat shit.
This news has also put me back in the good graces of my landlord, so for now, I still live here and can breathe again. I have a hill to climb to get square, but I have an army of ducks in a row. Still thinkin about a GoFundMe page, but that's just me brainstorming.
Aaand of course, to round everything out, Flaco Joe is once again sniffing around. He told me he missed me today- he's never said that. I didn't say it back because fuck him. The fact that I missed him back is irrelevant, because he sucks, and I didn't invite him over even though I crave his smell and his face and his skin and his smile crinkles like I'm actually starving for them.
It's 230 in the morning, but maybe I can still call him...
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