My job sucks. Everyone knows that. I don't think I've under embellished the amount of hell I receive on a daily basis from this job. In all things though I try my best to give glory to God and allow His peace to over flow in my life. I'm full up on peace and my pockets are empty. After being deathly ill for two weeks, I arrived back to work only to be neglected on hours. Oh so they play that sort of game. No hours for punishment. Goodie me. More time for writing and procrastinating on writing and more writing.
I thought things were looking up but again the weeks went by and I was pulling maybe a 10 hour paycheck every week. This moment has been causing me to excessively grind my teeth away at night. I even have two chipped teeth damnit! After consulting with my therapist and my husband...and the Lord God Almighty Himself. The message was clear. Rebecca, you have to look for a job. My whole world came crashing down. For so long I felt that I had control over the environment I was currently in. I knew my place. I knew my steps to take to mask my neurotic behaviors enough to work a full time job. The job was ending. My life was becoming more uncertain by the moment. Fear crippled me. All I wanted was to drown in a bottle of rum.
The 103 degree fever was probably a good deterrent for wanting to consume alcohol. I did want to live and I seriously considered the consequences. Gulping down as much self esteem as I could, which isn't that much anyways, I set out to write my resume.
Literally, I clicked submit resume and thought this is going to an unknown dental office probably looking for someone of much higher ability and skill than me who knows somehow, telepathically, that I'm completely freaked the fuck out. Gasp. They called me for an interview hours later. I set up the day and waited for the time to melt away.
"Oh Lord here I am", I thought. "Going to an interview at a place I don't know how to get to". Ugh. My anxiety pills seemed to be wearing off and nonchalantly taunting me "you're going to mess this up". "No pills, we got this" I thought. I took an extra pill in hopes that I wouldn't die of anxiety. I took a moment to pray. It was more like 30 minutes of deep meditation, some mild crying, and pleading to the Lord that I don't want to do this. Then, I was out the door to my interview.
It seriously took me every ounce of courage to get out of the damn car. In the parking lot I idled. If I don't turn the car off, I can just turn around and go back home. I can go home. I don't have to do this today. They don't know me and won't think anything of it. Maybe they would call and I would just not answer. I would never answer my phone ever again in my life if it meant I could just go back home.
The time was 5 minutes before my schedule interview time. I wiped my eyes and tossed my hair behind my ears. My neck felt hot and my cheeks flushed. I hate this I thought. I'm going to do this and it will be okay. I will be okay. God is literally walking me into the interview and asking the right questions and I prayed for the right answers so He will deliver me.
How could the interview have gone so quickly? This lady was the most boring hard to read stone cold woman I have ever met in my entire life. I felt so judged sitting there. Trauma brain was loving every minute of it. Who knows what I even said to this lady. I completely blanked the entire process. All I remember is shaking her hand and "tell me a little about yourself". I think I told her I had a house, I lived in a small town near by with my cat. I went to school for the position and the rest is blank. I've never bombed an interview before. Honesty has always gotten me a higher.
Back in the car, I started screaming loudly. The windows were fogged. Rain was smearing down the window. My body started to swell up full of the feeling to cry. I just started sobbing and yelling and freaking out. "Lord, let me have done a good enough job". Looking up I realized that I was parked in the middle of the patient loading unloading dock and children, families, mothers, daughters were all heading in to their appointments. I looked like a freak just blitzing out in the car. My purse was on the ground, I struggled to reach the keys from it. I had flung everything around when I was having my little moment of insanity. The metal was cold on my hand and I tried to start the car. We needed an oil change and belt replacements for months. How come now it decided to start squealing and embarrassing me.
My body shook from adrenaline. We hadn't had much food in the house due to the lack of an extra paycheck. My system was trying to crash on me. I had to just get home. I put the thought in my head to just get home. I wanted to reach out to someone. I tried to call out to family or a friend on my fancy new car speaker. No one answered. Silence over took me. The radio was not on. The rain sloshed under my wheels. "God, was I supposed to be victorious over my anxiety?" Silence. "I don't feel very victorious. I feel very anxious and upset about how it went". Silence still. "Hello, God I'm really not sure what your plan is". Then a thought came to me. This thought is still with me days later than when the interviewer said she would get back to me. Was I supposed to interview and find victory in actually doing it rather than accomplishing a new job?