Anything would be better

Anything, anything would be better than this agony of mind, this creeping pain that gnaws and fumbles and caresses one and never hurts quite enough. - Jean-Paul Sartre

Anything, anything would be better than this agony of mind, this creeping pain that gnaws and fumbles and caresses one and never hurts quite enough. – Jean-Paul Sartre

I’m feeling existential, downright nihilistic about my lot in life at the moment.

I’m frustrated. I don’t know how many more job applications I can throw out into the world before I do something drastic. I’m a simple woman; give me a job and you’ll get solid work out of me. But I won’t live and breathe the job. When I clock out, I’m out. But when I’m on your clock, I’m yours. I’ll do whatever you want. What it comes down to is are you a good fit for them. Job interviews aren’t one way either. You should also be interviewing them, feeling them out as well. You can tell right away if you won’t fit into their culture.

I’m probably interviewing badly. I don’t think I’m putting on my best face. It’s the only face I have, and I’m more than likely self-sabotaging at this point.

I am going crazy. There’s this poison in my head and my heart, and I can’t begin to heal because I don’t know how I am going to pay my bills. Money doesn’t buy you happiness, but it keeps the creditors at bay and lets you pretend to be a functioning member of society. It feels like a big joke that someone is playing on me.

I’d love nothing more than to go on a day trip somewhere, get out of this house and clear my head, but I can’t even afford the gas to leave my house. My dire straits are in dire straits.

I’ve felt like this before, and that’s when I was in jobs I didn’t like but I was stuck in them because I was afraid of exactly where I’m at now. It played out exactly how I thought it was going to. I made my bed, I’m lying in it and all I want is a shot to make things better.

Why can’t I be happy? Why can’t I just stay the course and not rock the boat and not want for anything more? I try so hard not to compare myself to others, and I think, “Why are they successful and happy with their lot in life and I can’t even get a job at McDonald’s?” But then, it works both ways too: they make do with what they are given and make the best of it.

Is there such a thing as being too ambitious? That’s where my core problem may lie. When I get to a certain level, I want to level up again and improve myself. I’m never happy to stay the course. I want new challenges, new surroundings every day. I get bored. I know it’s not handed to you on a silver platter, and you have to work for any shred of success, but I hate the waiting. I want to fast forward to the part in my life where everything is perfect and so am I and I don’t have any pain or sadness bleeding out of my spirit.

I tried following influencers on Instagram and Facebook that are uplifting and girlboss positive, but all I can think about is how none of their advice applies to me. I deserve it. I deserve to be successful as them. Then I recall this other quote from Steve Furtick that I’ve shared before (and it’s on my vision board, which needs updating for this year, actually):

The reason we struggle with insecurity is because we compare our behind-the-scenes with everyone else’s highlight reel.

These women share their stories of their struggles to get to where they are but it’s glossed over but lit well and looks marketable in a little square box of pixels and girly fonts with flowers in the background and they have perfect makeup and hair. None of them really show the warts-and-all approach to success. It’s all, “if I did it, you can do it too, and I can help you get there because we’re all in this together!”

It’s like, “no, we’re not. Not even close.”

I’m sorry to bum you out. I needed to get this out of my head. So many setbacks these past few months. I want so badly to give up. I tried incorporating new habits to fill my time and be productive, but after awhile, it all seems meaningless. I have to surrender control. I have to let my insecurities go, but I don’t know where to start. I feel like every time I do, they come roaring back like a hydra: cut one head off and two more grow in its place.

I need to pray and/or meditate some more. Maybe I’ll use up this last tank of gas and clear out and go somewhere. There’s plenty of places to lose yourself in Vegas for cheap. That, I can do.

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