July is looking mighty slim, and that is a damn problem. I got one good call today, and that was to invite me to a group interview where I can fight with a room full of strangers for the chance to earn $10 an hour phone banking for a popular medical charity.
This is not what I wanted my life to be. I know, as few as five days ago, I was talking about how I’m empowered by my work, and how I don’t have to get my self-worth from my title or my income any more because “I know who I am now.” Well, that was last week.
This week I’m struggling not to slash wrists over here because all the hustle in the world isn’t helping me right now. I’m staring down some serious burn out because nothing gets accomplished, and in response to nothing getting accomplished, my idiot decision is always to work harder, eat worse, and sleep less. So I do, and guess what, it doesn’t fucking work!
I am a moron. I am a moron who is sitting at her shitty home office desk at 10 p.m., trying to catch the bugs that have become inexorably attracted to my computer screen, while I curse inwardly and wonder why I suck so much.
And yeah, I realize that there are slow times, and I realize that you have to do what you have to do in order to get by, because it doesn’t matter what you do, it matters how you do it, and in fact I actually have had some good times phone banking for causes I care about in the past, and I did that all for fun and for free and never had an aneurysm over what this meant about my career. Oh look, I care about sick people and relevant charities and the rights of gays to marry. I’m such a loser, what a dumb bitch.
I guess I’m just bummed out because I wanted to think that I could get all the contracts I need to support myself, and I wanted to be this hot shot marketing maven, getting jobs on jobs on jobs, and this is so stupid. I told myself I’d wait until Friday to freak out about not getting enough July contracts, and I am definitely not going to get any contracts if I keep psyching myself out and wasting time worrying about shit that hasn’t even happened yet.
I just feel like I’m not doing enough, but I already know this about myself. There’s no such thing as enough with me. I’m not good at moderation. And I’m really not good with cutting myself some slack. Even if I do take that phone bank job, so what? If something better comes along, I’ll take that instead, but $10 an hour is better than no dollars an hour. I’ll just consider it cold call practice.
And cry myself to sleep every night for being a dumb failure who can’t keep her fucking business on track and who should just crawl in a hole and die. Maybe Ben can rent our office out as bedroom after I’m gone. He’d probably make more money from a room mate than he’ll ever see again being attached to me.
Okay, let’s hope this was enough bullshit to drown out the massive pity party I’ve been throwing myself all day long. On the one hand, I hate myself for having this problem. On the other, I hate myself for my obvious inability to man up and deal with it.
To make matters worse, Ben just came home with news that Safeway is hiring and I wanted to choke him. I’m such a tool. You know what people who work at Safeway have?! Fucking jobs. I am an asshole.