Well here we are in Hotlanta! We've been here for about 5 months now, and I would have blogged about it (believe me, I had the time) but I really forgot I had a blog. I started out this "new life" thinking that I wouldn't work, not unless a dream job came along and fell in my lap. I was going to collect unemployment from my last job and just live the good life, staying home, and doing whatever I wanted. It didn't take long for this to get boring. It also didn't take long for everyone to put in their 2 cents about it. "Ooh you don't have a job....why not?" "I just don't get it. I probably never will." or "Oh that's great" with a tone that told me they thought I was a loser. So I got a job out of spite to show everyone that I could get a job, that I was employable, and that someone wanted me. This backfired on me quickly. As soon as one little thing went wrong and I was questioned about it I went straight into panic mode. I had no control over the situation, and in .2 seconds all of the old feelings from Rantoul came flooding back and I realized I hadn't fully healed. The incident at my current job turned into nothing, or at least appears to be nothing for the time being. I still can't really trust. The only reason I can go into that job every day is just by telling myself that each day is money that I wouldn't have if I quit, and if I got fired today it would either reflect on a broken system, poor management, or be a freak thing that I had no control over anyway. I think the whole thing in Rantoul affected me more than I thought. I had trust and control issues even before that so now I feel like I'm just balancing on the edge every day. I've made up my mind to see a counselor, but finding one is a slow process. I wrote this poem about Rantoul. It didn't really help.
Every day is a chance to be happy.
Every day is a chance to forget,
But the pain still lives on fresh in my mind.
I can't seem to make peace with this yet.
I think about what i could have changed
If I could have saved my own life.
I retrace my steps, but each time I replay it
It never turns out right.
Did you push me out? Or did I fail you?
I cannot let go of the latter.
I perfect and correct and improve myself,
Though deep down I know it doesn't matter.
