Well, that includes the new inner workings of Blogger (I keep accidentally writing blooger, lol) and the situation outside our home.
Sure, trumpster fire finally being doused is good, but I mean the goddamn virus.
Don't want to really go into stores, but have to, don't want to meet people, thankfully my things are always progressing slowly, so I can actually focus on things that matter to me. There are available jobs, but like hell I'm suitable for them and seriously, right now, I don't want to risk my health. I don't want even a regular cold, let alone THAT. So no thanks for meeting people. Besides, starting a couple of web courses on light entrepreneurship. Jesus what a monstrosity of a word. I could have signed up for more, but I have NaNoWriMo to win.
They kept hounding me to go and test out if I have ADHD and it's bothering me and giving me anger and anxiety. Anger for pressuring me to it and also making me doubt myself again, when I was finally actually feeling rather good. Anxiety over that it will destroy what I think of myself and making it even harder in this impossible situation to find a job. I just want to be left alone, I try to see if I can handle being a seller of jewelry and miniatures, while seeing is there anything simple enough in the job market for me to do.
For ages I've felt like I'm not good for anything and it bothers me like hell. Sure, I might take some things personally, but seriously. When you can land just few months of work every other year, it eats your credibility but also yourself. To me, wanting me to go there is an insult to what I am. Sure, I talk a mile a minute, but so does everyone in my family. I am sometimes restless, well who the fuck isn't? I can swap my attention really quickly, surely a talent. I can focus on what I want very intensely, so? Everyone does that on a subject they like. I find the requests to go to a test really insulting and degrading. Insulting to my person and degrading to my mental capacities. I'm me. Deal with it.
I haven't yet blasted it to everyone but I will be putting up a fight this time. I'm done doing shit I don't want and need because other people think it's good for me, when I know it isn't.
This song... it's called out to me for years. It still does. I've never fit in and these motherfuckers better buckle up because I'll be ME until the day I die.
Been too long since I've written here, to be honest. I know there's probably nobody reading, but... Oh well... At least I get things off my chest.
I've been with Kela's Nuotti rehabilitation program for some time now, once a month for 2 hours with the coach. Mostly been with me talking, but I've got some goals set up towards getting some structure for my weeks. I don't want to just float around anymore.
When I look in the mirror, I see the same 15-yo girl who didn't want to go anywhere, because there was nowhere to go. I'm just fatter and look more tired. I guess that's because I'm 28 now. I look back and I've come far. I'm happily hitched, two cats, rented apartment and a hobby.
That's where I start to see differences. I look around. Some have illnesses and they cope with them, some are just as hopelessly unemployed as I am and some have jobs and steady income that doesn't evaporate 12hrs after it's been deposited in their accounts. What have I achieved in the eyes of others?
I'd say nothing. Sure, some people have it worse, but I feel like a failure for not being able to help the person closest to me. For not being good enough or confident enough to get a job. To support that way. What I'd like to have? A job that I can stand and feel it's worth getting my ass up and out. A pay that I don't have to count every cent of can we get groceries and cat food and litter plus the bills and rent and last until the next pay...
Life likes to throw wrenches at me like Ratchet, with too great of accuracy for my taste. We had savings and our computers broke. I had money and the car repairs were way over what money I got monthly. The second repairs drained the savings again. I'm tired of penny-pinching. The stress is putting a huge strain on me.
I know people would say get a fucking job. It is easier said than done. Right now, Finland does have more jobless people than workplaces open, but compatibility... You can't stuff a ball through a square-shaped hole, you know, we all tried as a kid, I bet.
I might see a job that would be interesting and I'm actually thinking of it, until few hours later, I realize I wouldn't be good at it. I'm afraid.
Afraid of being a failure.
I'm afraid of failing.
Few times I've tried my best, only to fail and get told that it wasn't the right way. I can't handle it. Go ahead, you can criticize my art, I know I'm not good at it, but I like doing it and I try, but god... whatever else I do and it tears me apart.
Thrice in Lankava I just wanted to drop everything and walk out, never to return. I fucking tried!
Almost every other day, I just wanted to drop everything and hop in my car and drive away from Powerpark. The register was just too complex for me and I couldn't grasp the details even after the whole season.
Few times I just wanted to sit and cry in the grass when doing park maintenance, I don't know shit about taking care of flowers or anything, I was tossed in and had to hit the ground running.
In the Children's Culture Center, I was so underqualified I'm amazed why they hired me? How bad was the other applicant that showed up?! I was completely lost with everything and just... flopped around like a fish out of water.
At the call center, that's where I broke the first time from getting chewed out by an angry customer for my mistake. The place wasn't really good, but it broke me. It simply broke me. I can barely call anyplace nor keep my shit together if my old mistakes are brought out. I wish I could thank the Swedish coworker who tried to console me. That job wasn't worth it.
People make mistakes and I am always aware of them, but I'd love to just rave at everyone's face that I'm trying, don't tell me where I went wrong. I am trying my fucking hardest.
I don't really try anymore. Not so people can see. I don't want to hear about my mistakes. I've made them and will continue to make. I just want to forget they ever happened. I know I'm trying to shut the world out. Shut the negativity out. It's just... it's like trying to block one of the nozzles in a fountain.
Why try when you know it's going to blow up in my face?
Why bother?
Why should I go to be the spitoon?
I don't have the answers for those. I wish somebody had. Go through that shit for money isn't what I wish for, but I tend to live in dreamland. None of you probably wonder why if you read my other slice of life shits.
This is my darkness. This is something not even my imaginary friends can save me from. I know I should just... grow the hard skin back now that it has been peeled off. I guess the shit was easier to take from the family in the form of always-broken promises, but it's the same shit that life keeps giving me, so it cannot be that either.
Sometimes I feel like the whole world could burn and I don't care. Other times I just... want to be someone people can trust. That people would trust me and look at me with a smile, with no lies to me.
...see why I don't really even apply for jobs? Why I see the psychotherapist and am in a rehabilitation program? I might look like a well-functioning 28-yo adult. Yet inside, I'm still that confused and broken, angry teen who just resigned to fate and was planning to be a bum under the bridge.
I was exhausted of expectations from everyone and fighting their visions by the time I was 20. I've tried to get a job and enjoy it, do it to my best abilities, but not being good enough. There's only one person who thinks I'm good enough and we live together. I'd probs be still holed up in that tiny village and write stories on the computer in the upstairs of my grandparents, in my childhood home. Without her, I'd be nothing.
Now I'm a wife and a cat mom. A doll modifier. A jewelry maker. A shy writer. None of that pays, but it keeps me alive and sane. If I was ever sane in the first place. I dunno. I've never been like others. I've never known how to do things others do.
Getting a job is a hurdle. Not really my fault either, the job markets are utter crap here. You'd need a million-dollar idea to become an entrepreneur. And you need those fucking million dollars to start that cycle of crap. I just want financial stability. It is just pure impossibility really... At least dreams are free.
I don't like to dream either, they just remind me what I don't have. Money. From a job.
I'm on the road to getting shit done per week, that is one step. I'd just need more help with my mind than can be provided freely. I can't go back either. My hometown is my personal nightmare for me. All the past bad memories flood me. I'm not going back to live, not until I'm better.
If I'm ever getting better.
One thing I have stopped dreaming about completely though. Losing weight. Granny told me I was never gonna lose weight since I had her body type. Well, she is right. Do I hate my body? Yeah, duh, you are lucky you haven't seen it. What do I do about it? Nothing. Nothing's gonna change anyway. My ass and thighs are never fitting in any nice clothes and my gut makes me look preggers, so I just wear oversized clothes. I'm done caring. If she still wants to wake up every morning next to me, even if I'm like this, so be it =) I'm very much fine with it. I don't care really about myself in physical sense.
I know it shows. One classmate said that the first time she saw me, she had thought that I'd be pretty if I just looked after myself. I never trusted her again, even if she promised to help defend me against rumors. Let them talk if it's their only hobby. In that town, it is the only thing to do. Gossip on others.
I did look around the other day, seeing all these things we've collected but never seem to have time for them and I felt sad. We've put so much love and effort into them. Then what? When we're gone? Who cares of them? Who is there to read their stories? I'm almost tempted to embark in that journey next November. To give them all a voice. Starting from my old imaginary friends. Somebody should hear their stories. Fanfiction-y and impossible they are, but it's our DollWorld. Our stories.
Maybe I should. I don't want this all to go to waste.
Ok, maybe the rant is over. I've unloaded a lot off my chest. Some might call this just attention whoring. It's not, since it's not on IG or Twitter or FB. I'm the type who needs to get things off my mind and out on paper or in digital form. Then I feel better.
A lot has changed and I miss the old times. When I was 15. This new world is harsh and cruel and twisted. Maybe that's the reason for Selenia to exist. It's a safe haven for us. A place where everything is well. It's in this doll room and in our minds and in our word docs. It's in our dreams.
I'm 28. I don't have a job. I love dealing with fashion dolls and handcrafts. I love music, heavy metal in particular. I wish I could turn one of my hobbies into a business, but I know I'm not good enough. I know I'm lazy, but that could also be me being... tired. Tired of failing. Tired of being scared.
Considering I was raised by a family filled with sickeningly curious and gosspiy people, surrounded by equally nosy neighbors, I've only managed to transform my curiosity into a lust for more knowledge. Give me books and I read them right away. Start telling me what a distant relative or a former friend is doing... Painful death by my hands is very near. I just simply have no desire to know what the fuck are they up to. They aren't that close to me, so why bother telling me because I have no interest whatsoever?
I make my own family, I have friends and my sweetheart of course. Even their lives are their own business. A friend might be talking about his/her new job, I don't even ask what they are doing. My penfriends are always telling me to ask questions about their life, of what I want to know. I've never really known what to ask. I rarely start messenger convos anymore. They say my convo starters are the funniest sometimes because they are so random. Yeah, mayhaps. I rarely believe what positive people say about me anymore. I'm still like that, but maybe a little... less like that.
Feel free to fire questions at me, if there is anyone to do so ^^
Slept 12 hours again. I should not get used to it. I cannot. I'm still kind of drowzy, which I hate. They say hate is a strong word, no-one can truly hate. I bed to differ though, but then again, I never do things like other people do, I see things differently. I don't overly enjoy socializing because of this, as I've never learned to keep my opinions to myself. Starting to. I'm have to. Getting sick and tired of being in trouble because of my motor mouth.
I'm supposed to unload myself here, but dunno where to start. You can always ask, though. I don't want to end up rambling anything trivial. Not that I'm not doing it already, sheesh.
Had to change the name, Purple Teardrops is all Lady Gaga, who is one of my faves, the actual reason to take the pic I have as the userpic. Anyway, this sounds more original. At least to me.
