May 30, 2005 - 11:36 a.m.
I've Constructed a Life in Which Things Slowly Fall Apart
I hate the uncomfortable lump that seems to have permanently settled in my throat. I dread the sweaty palmed anticipation of going to work as I head out the door... the feeling that I am fufilling a prison sentence. I know in a couple of years I will be back in school and I have to be ready for that. I try to use that to keep myself steeled. (I want to go into nursing, it took forever for me to figure things out. I don't know why I seem to know so little about myself sometimes.)
There are so many things... So many expectations that I feel I need to live up to. I am slowly draining away my life's essence on stupid things.
I like my job, while I'm at work. Before I get to work I'm a nervous wreck. I don't know why.
I don't understand my habits... Why I will address everything surrounding an issue before I work up the nerve to address the issue itself. By the time the issue's been addressed most people are left shaking their heads in confusion... Because I have done everything in my power to avoid making myself clear.
When I was interviewed for this job, collections, I promised that I would stay at it for at least a year. I've never held a job longer than ten months. This makes me anxious - it makes me worry that I'm going to do something to get fired or terminated...
Such high hopes, they put me in the top department, as if they expect me to become successful at this. It makes me nervous... How can I ever live up to their expectations? I feel like I'm being set up to fail and there's nothing scarier than the feeling that you've got nowhere to go but down.
As I said I don't think about this when I'm in the office. Only when I'm at home, without my sense of humour to save me. I don't know where my sense of humour goes when no one else is around.
It has to go somewhere - can someone tell me if they happen to come across it?
