Burberry Leash, Matching Collar

by Katherine

Today was wonderful.  Got my ass out of bed by 9:30, went hiking with Steph and Leslie, and then we went to lunch with Steph’s best friend in Fells Point.  When we got home we went to the pond and fed bread and crackers to the ducks and geese.  Finally it was home to fill out job applications and watch trashy television.  I also finally took care of getting my car insurance policy transferred.  Yay.

I did all of this in lieu of going to Virginia to surprise my friend at her family’s new restaurant.  A few of my friends planned it, and I pulled out this afternoon when I decided that I’d be too tired to drive all the way there and all the way back.  There’s more to it than that, but that was my biggest concern.  If I had gone, I’d only just be getting home right now.  No good.  I’m exhausted, and I hate to think how I’d be feeling right now if I had gone.

No, my day wasn’t busy or hectic or stressful, but I’m still tired.  I’m filled with anxiety, and if you’ll humor me for a moment and imagine that anxiety as a pool of ice-cold water filling my body up to my chest, that’s how it always feels lately.  The water level never drops, no matter how I distract myself.  And it’s exhausting, so pushing myself to fill my day with productive and/or fun things can be difficult.  I wasn’t able to entirely curb my irritably and snapped at Steph a few times, which was unfair, but otherwise today was a fantastic, sunny (albeit a little chilly) success.

To expand on how my job hunting is going: URRRRRRRRRGGGHHHHHHHH.  It is a soul-crushing, ego-destroying, tear-inducing mind-fuck.  When I got to Baltimore, I was all about the office jobs, since that’s where 98% of my work experience stems from.  So I applied to office jobs, administrative positions, clerical work, receptionist posts, etc.  Then, about two months ago I relented and expanded my job-hunting to retail and temp agency positions.  And today I was looking for job postings for banks and airlines. 

I feel like I’m throwing myself in all directions, a piece of slimy but plump bait on a spiky sharp hook, but no one is biting.  In the beginning, when I first got to Baltimore and told my friends about my hunt for The Perfect Office Job, I was subtly accused of arrogance, accused of thinking retail and temp work as things beneath me.  That’s not true, at all, and I have never felt that way.  I was merely looking for work that I know I can do, that I have have experience in, and that fits my resume and background perfectly.  I have no retail experience.  None.  Nothing is beneath me, I will take almost anything at this point (I can’t be a barista, just can’t do it, no).  But so far, no luck.  The one interview I got was successful and the job would have been mine if, you know, the job hadn’t then be canceled.  But that was in early November.

If I didn’t have this lingering, stubborn little need to please my parents and impress them and do exactly what I think they want me to do, I suspect that my stress level would be a little less severe.  But hey, I can at least say that this little scrap of please-the-folks-drive is all that’s left of what was once a gigantic, all-consuming monster that helped to nearly kill me.  I take a lot of comfort in that.  Things could be eons worse.  I have a lot to be grateful for, starting with my amazing, supportive, and patient girlfriend (she would never call herself patient, but in this instance she has been almost nothing but).  I’m grateful for my mental health, imperfect but still a long, long way from the red.  I’m grateful that my family hasn’t been berating me for my decisions, and that all of my concerns about their opinions of me are in my head, rather than reality.  I’m grateful for my friends, old and new, especially my best friend.  I’m grateful to Cracker, too, for being the best kitty-daughter a meowmy could ask for.  And Leslie, of course, for being so damn accommodating to me and my 0 rent so far. 

I really am the luckiest bitch on the block.  ❤

(Although, I have to say that there is a lab down the street with a really fine Burberry leash and matching collar, who happens to have an owner who drives a brand-new Lexus.  I’ve seen said owner lugging expensive organic chef-created dog food into their colonial-styled brick house with the wood-burning stove and the classy bright red front door. So the lab, too, is one lucky bitch.)