I didn't get the job. Fuck it. Who did I think I was, getting all optimistic? Don't I know by now that my life sucks and I never get anything I want? Haven't I learned by now not to get my hopes up? Fuck it all.
I took the new position at work, which a month or two ago I would have been thrilled by. Now I can't get the idea of an office, and a job that commands respect, and, of course, dollar signs out of my head.
I came home and cried and said some awful things to my husband about how terrible our lives are and how we never pursue our goals (both in extremely low paying jobs, incapable of producing offspring and definitely can't afford to go through expensive fertility treatments or even adoption process most likely - see above re low paying jobs - but this is probably a good thing since how would we be able to raise babies if we managed to acquire them?), and on and on. You know how I love my husband and adore him and think he is incredibly wonderful and without flaws? Believe me, tonight I was seeing flaws. First off, he is not good at comforting me when I am upset. Never has been. Secondly, he had the nerve to come down with what is probably the flu on today of all days so could not even achieve his usual level of inadequate comfort provision. I was depressed and bitchy and he was just sick and sad.
I wish I could sleep for about a week, but instead I start my new job on Friday.
2 comments:
Oh I hate when my husband needs caring for. Doesn't he know it's his job to look after me?
Sorry you didn't get the job, that is very disappointing. I hope the teaching job turns out to be ok.
I remember when I couldn't get pregnant *and* I didn't have a good job lined up ... I felt like such a failure. I said once to my husband, "Will you still love me if I can't have a baby?" and he said "Of course." Then I said, "Will you still love me if I can't have a baby and I can't get a job?" "Yes, sure." Finally, starting to joke by now, I said, "Will you still love me if I can't have a baby, can't get a job, and get really fat?" And he said, "Hmm, well .... how fat?" Which for some reason I found hysterically funny. After that I would ask him, "remind me -- I'm still ok if it's only two out of three, right?" I don't know why, but it made me feel better.
You'll get there. Good luck with the new job.
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