I’ve alluded to this and mentioned it in posts, but now I’m going to formally blog about it.
Back in August, I was missing a lot of work; I would take the bus there, walk in the building, go to my desk and the tears would start. I was having daily emotional breakdowns. I’d spend half an hour in the bathroom crying and then go home. I hated it.
In November, I stopped going to work altogether. Two weeks later, they called me to ask what was wrong (I was on intermittent FMLA, but it didn’t cover that much time). I told them I had to quit because I couldn’t handle it anymore. They had been waiting for me to do this. They didn’t want to fire me.
My Dad and Step-mom were so angry at me for quitting, but they didn’t understand how stressed I was even when I tried to explain it. I needed to quit for my sanity, so I did and it got worse from there.
I managed to get an extremely part-time job at Dunkin’ Donuts, but I wasn’t very good. In general, I don’t like working with food/drinks. It makes me uncomfortable because people are extremely particular when it comes to that and it gives me a lot of anxiety.
About 3 weeks into working at Dunkin’ Donuts, I got a second parttime job at a new sandwich shop called Baguette Abboudit because I wasn’t getting enough hours or making enough money. Balancing two jobs did not work. I was constantly freaking out at Dunkin’ Donuts that I needed to be at Baguette Abboudit and I was so stressed that I got very sick.
When I went into Baguette Abboudit with a cold (on a day I had already told them I was working at Dunkin’, but Dunkin’ had sent me home early), I ended up get fired.
Dunkin’ never gave me more hours. I was becoming more and more agitated with my living situation, which I had never been happy about. It was “transitional living” and I had been living there almost three years. I felt angry and stuck. My life wasn’t going anywhere.
I ended up getting myself kicked out because I couldn’t stand to be there anymore. I literally made a Facebook post saying I felt unsafe and needed a place to stay; my parents told my landlady and she took offense, which was not the original reason for the post. I tried to explain that by unsafe I meant being there made me feel like a danger to myself. She didn’t care.
At that point, I was homeless, I was too stressed to go work at Dunkin’ Donuts. I spent one night with my friend and then moved to a different part of town which was too far away to keep my job.
So, I moved in with an older man, who was renting to share his bedroom with females was were 20-30 years younger than him because he wanted the company. He rented to multiple girls. I was one of three girls. I slept on the couch while he shared his bed with the other two, and they definitely did more than sleep.
It was another place I didn’t belong. I worked a vacation sales job for a week and a half, enough to pay my rent, but it didn’t stick cause I was still stressed and unhappy, and I can’t do that kind of work when I have other stress in my life.
The older man sold his condo and paid for two weeks for one of the other girls and me to stay in a pretty dismal motel room. It sucked, but it was a roof over my head, which I wouldn’t even have in 2 weeks.
Things were looking bad, really bad… and then I met Ian and my path to really starting over began.
He took me into his home for three weeks, even though there wasn’t a lot of room for me and he didn’t have to. He disrupted his own life and his dad’s life, and both of them really took the time to include me and talk to me about my issues.
So now, I’m renting a room from Ian’s Dad’s friend. I’m feeling happier. I don’t have a job, but prospects don’t seem quite as bad. It’s still daunting though and it’s not exactly working out like I wished it would.
That’s the story of how I got here and how I disassembled every part of my life, so I could start over and rebuild from the ground up. I needed a new foundation, one that was stronger and more stable. It wasn’t smart or safe, but I won’t say that it wasn’t absolutely necessary.
Growing up, I was on a path. I hadn’t fully formed or decided who I wanted to be yet, but then my mom died and all the potential I had seemed to die inside me. I lost my light and I lost the path, but I kept going because life doesn’t have a pause button. I went until I lost myself and lost who I wanted to be; I couldn’t get back to it because I didn’t know where I was or where it was, or even who I was.
I screamed and I screamed into the endless void, but nothing ever answered.
Eventually, I had to make a choice and the choice I made was a forced restart. I unplugged myself and now I’m running through all the programs again.
I just need another chance to prove I can do better this time. I want to do better.
UPDATE: I GOT A JOB! and I’m gonna keep this one.