Up from the low, down from the high, back down to the lowest low...

I guess that leaves me somewhere in between. I'm not quite sure where I am, or where it is exactly that I'm supposed to be. A little confused perhaps. I just checked, and I've sent out 53 resumes, filled out 22 applications and I've been on 15 interviews. You'd think somewhere in there, there would be a job. I've actually been to one company THREE times in the last month. They still haven't made their decision. Or so they say. Perhaps they have made their decision, but it wasn't in my favor and they just didn't want to hurt my feelings after leaving me hanging for over a month now. Of all of them, I really wanted that one. I've read the AJMs about the author having applied for every job in Orange County. I honestly believe that I HAVE done that. 53 resumes in 3 months. I believe that averages out to around 17.6 resumes per month. If there are 20 working days in a month, I've almost sent out one resume per work day. I would say THAT is an effort. But what is the result? Nothing.

I'm feeling just a bit worthless these days. I put a lot of effort into things that bear no fruit and then wonder why I suck so much because I have nothing to show for it. There aren't a whole lot of kudos for being a driver or errand runner. Can't get a job, feel like less than zero on the worthiness scale, can't even look at myself in the mirror because all I see is an obscene obese monster. I can't even get up enough joy to pretend there's joy. I'm in a constant state of pain lately with my back and shoulder and yet I feel too guilty to go to the doctor to get it fixed because there are so many other things that need attention. Haircuts, furniture, summertime fun, running people on errands. There really is no time. Time is spent trying desperately to be a supporter, encourager, righting wrongs, apologizing for everything I've ever failed at. But what is the result? In all honesty; nothing.

I understand missing friends. Sometimes I wish I had someone who truly understood me. Who I could talk to, hang with, be honest and real with. Watch SNL and eat ice cream with and who would just love me when I am unloveable. I don't have that with anyone. At least anyone that lives here. She moved back to Hawaii a long long time ago. It's a really hard thing to be surrounded by people and yet feel so very alone.

I can't remember the last time I felt good. Physically or mentally. I think it was linked to a paycheck and an outside job. In losing that, I feel like I lost what perhaps best defined me. And yet its really sad to think that way. I had some value when I brought home money. Now, I'm not really sure I have much importance. To myself, or anyone else. When the money runs out, I'll be worth even less than I do now. I'm sure that's not true. It's just the way it feels.

I remember being blissfully happy once. It was fleeting, but happy. From around January 2000, to May 5, 2001. I didn't think I would ever be that unhappy person that I was before that again. I was wrong. I fell down a flight of stairs, and now She's back. And it looks like She plans on staying awhile. She's made herself quite at home lately.

I always hope that someday, kind words would be expressed when people speak of me. I think that in my head the thoughts are grandiose. I probably give myself more credit than others do. In reality, I'm probably nothing more than tolerated for company's sake. I suck at just about everything that I thought that I was good at....being a wife, a mother. For God's sake, I can't even get a fucking job. Worthless to the very core of my being. My first roll of abdominal fat is bigger than my bustline. Food is nothing more than a drug to numb the pain, but it doesn't work. Alcohol helps me sleep, but then I wake up and the pain is back. I'm not sure what's worse sometimes. Maybe it's time to go back to therapy. At least then I get Prozac.