Aside from a near-brush with being an RV salesman, my husband had no luck on the job hunt this week. I didn't even have a near-brush, so I have nothing to say about that.
He had an interview at the RV place, with an interview for a far better state job scheduled for the next morning. The RV place told him that they were going to have training starting the next morning, and he couldn't be late or miss any of the three days, for any reason. So he didn't go to the training, he went to the interview.
The state people were supposed to make a decision before the end of the week, and here it is, without a word from them. I think it's a pretty sure bet that he didn't get that job either. He must suck at interviewing or something.
Lots of restaurants are looking for people. I think I will give that a try. It will still put me in contact with the general public, in a position to get pissed on by every asshat who is having a bad day, but maybe I can do it for a little while before I freak out and go postal.
I guess I should get out of here and make a last ditch effort to save our asses before the weekend.
Friday, August 06, 2004
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
Catching up
Being depressed doesn't go well with blogging for me. I can maintain a certain level bitchiness and complain endlessly through the keyboard, but depression is a silent, wordless state for me. I reach a point where I am too down to type. I get so far down that I don't even have it in me to complain.
You know those keychains with scorpions encased in acrylic? That's what depression feels like. I am that scorpion, wrapped up, suffocated and paralyzed in a clear case of depression. Only depression is a little more transparent than acrylic, a little harder for others to see. They might see the signs of it, and feel around the edges, but it is hard for them to judge how deep I am inside it.
We had a miscarriage. I woke up early on July 8, our anniversary, to a crampy, clumpy, bloody mess. That went on for a few days.
And then there were the other things-- the job interviews that didn't pan out, the creditors on our backs being a pain in the ass, my mother trying to drag me into a dispute between my brothers, the kids acting like their brains fell out.
It's not been good.
My husband is off at a job interview right now. This job would be super-sweet. I am trying to believe that he'll get it in the hopes that somehow, magically, my belief will make it true. I want it to be true. It has to be. This is the best opportunity we've had come along in a good long while.
At the same time, things seem so bleak right now that I am afraid to hope, because if my hopes are dashed again, I may fall back into that deep, silent, suffocating darkness.
You know those keychains with scorpions encased in acrylic? That's what depression feels like. I am that scorpion, wrapped up, suffocated and paralyzed in a clear case of depression. Only depression is a little more transparent than acrylic, a little harder for others to see. They might see the signs of it, and feel around the edges, but it is hard for them to judge how deep I am inside it.
We had a miscarriage. I woke up early on July 8, our anniversary, to a crampy, clumpy, bloody mess. That went on for a few days.
And then there were the other things-- the job interviews that didn't pan out, the creditors on our backs being a pain in the ass, my mother trying to drag me into a dispute between my brothers, the kids acting like their brains fell out.
It's not been good.
My husband is off at a job interview right now. This job would be super-sweet. I am trying to believe that he'll get it in the hopes that somehow, magically, my belief will make it true. I want it to be true. It has to be. This is the best opportunity we've had come along in a good long while.
At the same time, things seem so bleak right now that I am afraid to hope, because if my hopes are dashed again, I may fall back into that deep, silent, suffocating darkness.
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