It’s been a busy day for my little blog. As neglected as she is, (poor thing no posts since the 5th), and yet there were 35 hits today, 11 of them for that last blog about our housewarming fiasco.  It makes you wonder who found you, read through you.  Did they glean anything from your random musings or are they scorning your vanity?

Search engine terms that brought people here: “Quotes from opinionated women”.  At first I was a bit taken aback by that, shocked and a little perplexed.  But now I am laying in it like a soft throw. Opinionated? Well, yes that is me.  I am not afraid to speak my mind.

The work struggle endures and I feel myself spiraling in equal parts frustration and shame that I cannot master this.  In what my mind tells me should be technically achievable, the rest of me quakes and quibbles while I try to do it.  I can’t make sense of it all.  I have no training for this and I don’t know how to make it all work.  It’s carving a deep hole in my chest and making me feel hollow and a failure.  I can do what I was hired to do, but I am not ready to take 3 steps up and yet here I sit propelled by necessity.  and I feel myself failing.  As more and more expectations pile on, and the numbers go into the millions, I have a harder and harder time coping with it all.    I am anxiety ridden over it, a tangible, palpable anxiety.

Right now, I feel tired.  A deep, bone aching weariness that wasn’t here a few weeks ago.  It’s a huge warning sign of depression. The logical side of me can see this. I said something to my husband and I keep thinking that I need to find a doctor so that it doesn’t get out of control.    I saw a doctor a few years ago that told me that trauma in younger people can permanently alter their chemical make-up, that I probably would always be susceptible to depression.  To watch and be careful.

Watch and be careful.

So am I trying to take the steps to remedy this slippery hole that I have found myself in.  I try to remember all the wonderful things that are going on in my life. Wake up and hug the curly-headed cherub that cracks jokes as I go out the door in the morning…. “Good bye mama hotdog…”  “Good bye Amelia spaghetti”  To find the joy in that simple exchange, to make it last all day through the harder times.

I try at my job, though I feel inept and overwhelmed. I try and I try and I plan and I work. But it still feels like a muddy hole, the sides so slippery that I slide back down whenever I try to crawl out.  I slide deeper and further until the blackness of the hole threatens to smother the very essence of me.

There are so few other jobs out there right now. So many people out of work. I need this job, I need  a job.  I need this schedule.  I need to keep us solvent, and keep paying off our debt so that we can start saving.  I need to make a change though. This isn’t working and in fact is making me miserable.  This in itself  makes me start mentally kicking myself since I feel like a job hopper now. 

 What about me is so lacking that I can’t do this.  It’s hard, but it’s not like I shy away from hard things.  I like to put my head down and figure out solutions. I like to work hard.   It’s hard because I don’t know what I am doing. I don’t know how to make it all work.  It’s hard to feel like failure.  I can do the job I was originally hired to do.  But things have changed and they need so much more now. So much more than I know how to do. It’s sink or swim time and I am sinking.  I have been unofficially elevated to the point of inadequacy.  How do you reconcile that?  How do you keep the tide of defeat and failure from tearing at your foundations and washing you away.

Sigh… breathe….remember…..   “Good Morning Mama Hot dog”,  smile… “Good morning Amelia spaghetti”

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