This is it, Clems*n. You get one more year to prove you're worthy of me, mostly because I'm too broke to move and too lazy and tired and depressed to jobhunt right now.
I have spent two solid years being more consistently and inconsolably miserable than anytime since the Great Year of Mom's Death and My Divorce.
The first year I fed on blind optimism in the face of being more stressed out with less support than ever before at a new job (truly, the psycho boss at the R*mrunner in 1994 was less trying than my professional existence here - at least we got to eat expensive cheese and prosciutto for our break meals [see above, "psycho"]). I told myself it was normal: brand new post with way more to do than at Aub*rn, after all. It will be worth it! You'll see!
Last year I blamed myself all year long. What is wrong with you? Suck it up! Get on top of things! How dare you be so
This year fuck it. There is No Way this is my fault and I am starting to fear for my survival. Being sick (physically then emotionally) 75% of last school year was already way too much. Nothing is worth this (she said, trying her utmost to put out of her mind how fucking old she is with no fucking savings and piss-poor amount of retirement put away).
Then again, dying in the next few years here from either exhaustion or heartbreak (job/calling heartbreak not the other kind) would surely be worse than living out my days broke and scrounging but content (or at least bored instead of suffocating from stress and sadness), right?
Hmmm. Still if last year's health issues were any indication, I may not have a choice. Which may be a good thing...
Anyway if this university and this department and this group of coworkers (I dare not add the students to that list - ahem) doesn't start actively making me happy (or at least less crappy) pronto I swear a year from now I will be looking at retail again. Sure Sam & Lucy and I will be on generic kibble and ramen, respectively, for 400 years until I pay off all my moving and depression-spending debt. But I sincerely believe that this job will be My End if things don't improve. (Which admission still feels oh-so-ungrateful regardless of how true it is.)
If the email from a "colleague" just now is any indication of how much More! collegial this year will be, you can come see me in a year at Books-A-Million. Unless I can get a job at the Pendlet*n bakery maybe.
