It’s been a few months.
This may have been the longest hiatus I have taken from writing. It has been a tumultuous time since July. I started off with being physically ill from one of my medications. That turned into resignation from my long-term job and a short foray into a job that was simply not right for me. I kept a brave face but inside I was failing. After seeing how my stress level was affecting my child, I decided to take the leap and look for an alternate source of employment.
Long story short–being disabled sucks at times. And there was a level of constant chaos in my most recent job that I simply could not handle. So, here I am. Temporarily unemployed and wishing that the reportedly uncomfortable state of being on disability was a possibility. I’m told that it’s not. I’m told it takes years. I’m told you lose your car and any semblance of your once comfortable life. I don’t really want to do that, especially considering that I have a child to help provide for. A child who, incidentally, goes to school on the other side of town to grow up with supportive friends.
So I soldier on.
And Christmas is coming. With Christmas comes the usual, additional bills. I’m still playing catch-up from being on leave in July. But my car registration will soon come to haunt me. As will my AAA bill, which I depend on in case said car decides to break down. And soon I will need to get the issue of my squeaking brakes addressed.
Then there was the unexpected $500 worth of vet bills I incurred when the little cat decided not to pee for three days. At least some of that I should be able to recoup through pet insurance. But it’s hard to keep your self-worth up when your net worth seems to be dropping steadily by the day.
This idea of worth. What am I worth? More than the sum of my bills. As you know, if you’ve read the blog, I have waxed suicidal in the past. The idea that I am worthless? Well, I’ve flirted with it from time to time. But that idea is completely invalid. I know that I have something to offer. To my family, to my friends, to the community.
Society has other ideas sometimes. It wants to reduce you to a bank balance. Capitalism is a mixed bag for artists and creatives. Yes, I want to be myself. But well, food is kind of important. So is a roof over our heads. And running water. Will I be unwillingly forced back into the service industry? Most likely. But in reality, I’m happy to do it. Despite the social anxiety, I do like most people and enjoy at least trying to make their days a bit brighter.
Would I prefer a quiet office job? Sure. It is what I am best suited to despite a lack of recent experience. I am trying. I know. Most people are like, hey, you should try for one of those state jobs. I’ve tried. I fail every examination due to a lack of recent experience. I know I could do any job if trained, but a lot of jobs these days require familiarity with programs that I’ve never even heard of. I’ve heard, hey, you’re an educated woman, you should get a better job. I know. Trust me, I’ve tried.
I know my worth, but also my limitations. Being chronically ill is also a mixed bag. Does it make me tough? Sure. Does it make me more vulnerable and prone to failure? Absolutely. But I cannot, and will not, let it take me down.