I spent ten months unemployed. Ten months almost to the day. I can’t get my head out of my ass and get my ass into gear for this new job I have. This company practically moved Heaven and Earth for me to work for them because that’s how much of a difference I was going to make at their company.

Now I am on my third week of it, still employed. I am finding what I excel at, what I am not decent at, what my coworkers and superiors are good at and well, bad at. I haven’t even gotten my first paycheck yet and already feel stuck in a rut.

I prayed to God everyday and cried to Him asking to provide me with a dream job and that he did within 2.4 miles of my house! (added bonus: Kyle works at the grocery store in the same parking lot as my new office). this really is a dream job but my attitude and demeanor don’t reflect it.

I keep thinking and ruminating how miserable my mental health makes me feel to the point that I am back to taking Xanax at work not for fun, but so my anxiety attack doesn’t commit me to the local psych ward. It’s survival mode at that point at 10am.

I am a HR recruiter for caregivers, essentially. But at this point in the game, I am an underpaid and overworked receptionist. I’ve learned a lot in the last few weeks, but I feel like I am not excelling the way they’d hope I would. I feel like my work ethic is good; I do what I am told and offer assistance to others. I feel like I am failing and disappointing a lot of folks who put their bets so to speak on me.

I think I am so jaded and paranoid about getting fired so abruptly from my last job that I am personifying the traits I had and possessed when I was fired from the crisis navigator role I was in for homeless and vulnerable youth and adults. Do I think I deserved to be fired from that role? No. But I did display an attitude of entitlement and I feel like it came back. I need to get in the dirt and dig the weeds out by the root to get to the crux of the issue at hand.

Everyone there in the very small office has at least once if not more complimented me and appreciated the work I had done thus far. But the schizoaffective side of my brain says:

“NO THEY ARE LYING TO YOU, YOU STUPID DUMB B**** GO **** YOURSELF AND DROWN TO SILENCE YOUR CRIES.” (Yes, it really is loud and dramatic in my head but my regular brain gaslights me into thinking I am fine and this is normal).

I started getting sick last week and now the last two days I have thrown up at work and I was sent home each day. Today I called out. I haven’t thrown up today, but my body hurts, my throat, feverish, my chest hurts, loud cough, and nausea.

I feel like my depression and schizoaffective or whatever is going to sabotage my job. I really hope this doesn’t though because my mental health staying at home all the time was much, much worse. It’s not like I could get disability for my diagnosis since I am considered “functioning” all because I drive (for now) and I haven’t been hospitalized for mental health issues (yet). If I were to ever go off my meds, even on accident, that is my reality. That or back to jail. Hopefully and Lord willing, things will NOT get to that point.

Last weekend, we had Kyle’s grandfather’s celebration of life at his grandma’s Baptist church. The pastor spoke and when he counseled Kyle’s grandma, the pastor asked what she loved most about her late husband. (Now mind you, she’s like 4′ 7″ short little Bible thumper old lady who loves the game Pinochle aka a card game she places bets on four times a week and only goes to church three times a week. Her love of gambling is probably the only sin she has ever committed). So grandma said of her husband, “He let me do what I wanted to do when I wanted to.” Not your generic marriage of 63 years sorta answer that you would hear from the living spouse in a Baptist church of all places…. But I digress.

I spoke. I started with, “I suck at public speaking” so that if I did actually suck, they had their expectations lowered a lot. But little did that Baptist church know that I was in speech and debate all four years of high school, I triple lettered as a freshman, and won the whole debate camp tournament junior year. I had three students I trained go to nationals by the time they were seniors. So to say the least, people thought my speech for the event was not only well spoken, but hilarious. I explained my grandfather-in-law and I’s ritual of when I’d make bacon, I’d give him a couple of pieces and he’d stick them in his jean front pocket to “save for later”. That church was dying after that.

It’s been a weird time but also not the worst time?

I’m confused.

What am I writing about?

Oh well. It’s gone.

Okay. Byeeeeeeeeeeeee.

-Dani