I think I have Ergophobia.
I've been stage managing a play, and running a box office for another show. I've been happy, but not getting paid.
I got a job today. I'm so terrified. I start on Tuesday.
My last job screwed me up emotionally. I feel emotionally abused. I'm so scared that I'll get fired, and I know that comes from my last job. I was scared I was going to get fired everyday. My anxiety level is out of control right now.
I should be happy, but I can't stop worrying and crying.
Thursday, June 11, 2015
I think I have Ergophobia.
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Lately I've had a few songs from musicals stuck in my head. "Every Little Piece" from Pete's Dragon and "Money Money Money" from Momma Mia. Both of the things these songs have in common is finances, and lusting after it.
While looking for something else in my mother's house a few weeks ago, I found my 6th grade yearbook. They had us all write where we would be when we were 30 years old. I wanted to be editor of a newspaper, and live in a beach house in California.
Every once in awhile I'll check Zillow.com and look at beach houses. I'm still that little kid. Those are still things I want at 34, although editor of a dying medium doesn't seem like beach house material. The money just wouldn't be there. Those houses are millions of dollars.
The money from the house sale is dwindling to nothing. Job prospects are still low. I'm still so selfish, clinging to flashy houses/apartments/parties. I had an okay job and a nice house, but no friends. Now I have friends, but no house fit to invite them over to. No money to go out with. I am selfish to want it all...but I also don't think that the American Dream is too much to ask.
I don't really need a huge house. A nice one to hold small dinner parties in would be fine. A small yard. Something I wouldn't be embarrassed to show people, like my mom's house. Mom's house is big but filled to the brim with crap. We had a BBQ the other week for mothers day and I didn't even want anyone coming in to use the bathroom. I just want a bathroom to be proud of. One that doesn't have a yellow porcelain tub and sink. It's amazing what didn't bother me as a child that bothers me now about the house.
I'm also going crazy never being alone. Whenever Hubby isn't home, my mother is. I miss having a big house to be alone in. I want to be with people, I want to be without people. Sometimes I think I'm so picky that I'll never really be happy.
Yet I am happy, happier than I was before. I am improving, even though it feels like a step back.
But I still would like a big vat of money to fall into my lap.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
I had lunch with a high school acquaintance today, and posted a picture on my Instagram thanking her for the coffee date. She commented "Glad you're home!" and at first I misunderstood and thought she was happy I got back home safe. Did I drive crazy? Did I forget something we've talked about?
Then I realized, she meant home. Back in town home. She was glad I was back.
After 4 months, she was really the first one to express that I was home. Now it feels way more real. I'm here.
Sunday, April 19, 2015
This is one of those days where I hate my mother. She's so condescending and doesn't say what she means and is so passive aggressive and some days I just can't fucking take it anymore.
No wonder I was a depressed kid. A moody teenager. An angry adult. I can't deal with her shit and guilt tripping much longer. I applied for 3 jobs today and followed up on a lead. We need to get jobs and get out of my mother's house. Tomorrow I will be better, but right now I'm fully willing to let her rot away inside her hoarder home until she dies, and then I will happily throw away everything she owned and make the house nice, and sell the shit out of it.
I know I'd be sad that she was gone...but I'm not going to lie, part of me will be relieved.
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
I decided to organize all the mail we had lying around everywhere today, and put it on the hall table in a double-decker letter tray. I had asked her about doing it before, and she said that it wasn't any of her mail. So to show her it was, I put it all together.
Passive Aggressive Teenager attitude reared it's ugly head in my mother. She took her mail and went upstairs to her room with it. Hubby was working for three hours on a St Patrick's Day dinner she almost didn't come down to eat. Then she just pushed around her food on her plate not saying anything. She retreated back to her room after dinner and didn't say anything to anyone.
I apologized to hubby, and he was still a little miffed about it considering she had ruined the whole dinner with her attitude. She wonders why we don't bother to make dinner or spend time with her.
I really should have not let it go when Hubby said it would be okay to move in with her. I would have said I wasn't going to do that and we should find an apartment. I had a Skype interview today that I hope goes well. If it does we are moving out ASAP.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Sunday, March 08, 2015
The best man from my wedding died suddenly a little over a week ago. As soon as my husband's phone rang I knew he had passed. If it was intuition or my ability to go straight to worst case scenario, I guess I'll never know.
Even though my dad and both my grandmothers had passed, this one was different. All of those didn't come with the horrific element of surprise. I also didn't have to deal with a terribly co-dependent friend this time around like I did with my dad.
This time around I didn't really feel like I had the right to be upset. It was Hubby's friend, not really mine. We spent some "couple" time together for sure, but he wasn't really my friend. In fact, I had the distinct impression that he was amused by me, but had no interest in getting to know me personally.
He was a very passionate guy. He would get obsessed with something and it would be 300% about that topic until he was over it. It could come off as extremely selfish, and a lot of the time it was. It was. I'm still angry with him. I'm angry that his perfect family, his perfect life in his mansion, wasn't enough to seek the help he needed. He's a selfish asshole. He was a selfish asshole. Even if his death turns out to be an accident, I'm still mad at him for not getting his shit together.
But I'm not allowed to have those feelings. He's not a friend, I'm not supposed to have opinions about this. I'm supposed to just be there for Hubby. I'm trying my best to be there for him. But my own feelings keep getting in the way.
I'm so inappropriate when it comes to death. All I could think about during the open casket was what a long day his corpse had, with a viewing from 4pm-8pm and then off for cremation in time for his funeral at 11AM the next morning. It looked like him, but it also looked like someone from Madam Tussaud's had an intern do him. If he was getting cremated later, was he in a longer casket? When my sister was giving me a hard time about what I was wearing to my Grandmother's funeral, I told her that she humped the couches so much as a toddler that my mom took her to a doctor to see if she was okay. Yeah, I put the fun in funeral.
I've cried almost ever other day since it happened. Today I was super fatigued and slept through most of the day. I hope this is the beginning of the acceptance phase, because I'm over this anger phase.