The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

castles in air

I have an appointment with the employment counsellor in an hour.

The mood I've been dealing with has not left, but it's less invasive, settling in the margins of me, rather than in the centre. M. is talking to me again, after three days of general standoffishness, and he has not told me why he was angry in the first place, but I can't say I care that much. Whatever crime I committed was not done with intent, and as there was no spilt blood or loss of life, I think it should be pushed aside.

I cannot believe I'm having so much trouble figuring out what to do with my life. My friend C. told me in high school that she wanted to be a nurse, so she became one and loves it. There was no debate, no major distractions and she makes great money working four days a week. My father, who many believe could be 'anything', opted to become a stone mason/bricklayer, and he loves it. He gets up with a bounce in his step, chats while he works, creates beautiful, functional art and comes home with more energy than most teenagers I know. He doesn't care that people think he could have been a lawyer, or a teacher, or whatever white collar jobs he has the brains for. He is happy knowing that what he does will live long after he doesn't. For some reason, just writing about this makes me feel like weeping. I love my dad. I only recently figured out that he works harder than most people I know, and that even though he has made all kinds of mistakes in his life, he's one of the few people I respect outright. Why do I feel like crying? Oh yes. Hormones.

So, I'm frustrated and a part of me is angry with my employment counsellor for not being able to perform miracles. All these jobs she's been telling me about, all the opportunities, and I'm still floating around limbo. I'm not sure what I expect from her, though. She can't infuse me with inspiration and gumption. I have to find that in myself. She tells me not to settle for whatever is available because I owe it to myself to do what I love, but what if I have no idea what that is? What if being in my house, dabbling in poetry, reading books and baking cookies is all I really, truly love?

But, that isn't true. When I worked, I was highly productive and motivated on the surface. I was a leader, I was good at it, but I didn't particularly like it. What I want, what I need, is to make a certain amount of money per month at a job that I like. This does not seem to be an outlandish request, but where are all of these fabled employers? The ones who like applicants with little experience because it means they can be moulded the way they see fit? Where are all the fairytale opportunities? The power of visualization hasn't done much on my end. I haven't read The Secret, but I know the main points of it and I have to say it isn't having any influence over my situation. Try to be open! Be positive! Visualize your heart's desire! Please. What this means is that my situation is completely my fault, because I don't believe hard enough. Nevermind the resumes, the seminars, the weeping in the shower. If I believed better, I'd be on my way to work right now.

My attitude is all wrong for today. First off, it's Monday, and second, it's freezing rain outside. Throw in cramps and the fact that I haven't had sex in what feels like a millenium and you have a fairly sour girl on the verge of hysteria. I don't want much, you see. I have been making due with very little in the past year and I keep to myself. What I want is a job that makes me feel valuable. I want my life to be focused on things like peace and relaxation, good food, good books, friendship I can rely on and love. Also, I want to love my house, because the walls around me are my world. I want to write and know what I've written matters to someone. I don't want to worry about money, anymore. I don't want more than I deserve, just enough that I can breathe easy and make plans for the things I want to do without hyperventilating at the idea of doing anything more than staying inside, brooding.

The worst part of all of this is the not knowing. I hate not knowing what I'm supposed to be doing. M. says I could be trying harder than I am, but what else is there? I send in a resume via email and I'm told I should be taking it in myself, even though the ad says to send it via email. I am lost when it comes to job-hunting. I don't know how to market myself, how to have one of those shiny-toothed, firm handshake kinds of conversations that I see others conduct with ease. I am shy and slightly uncomfortable in those situations, but this doesn't mean I'm not a valuable candidate.

I don't want to go see the counsellor with this loser attitude. She might give up on me, tell me to apply at some big box, corporate concentration camp with flashing lights and greeters at the door because that's the only place for people like me. A life of servitude, a life of dragging myself to 'we can do it, teamwork!' meetings and uniforms. I don't want that. I do not want that at all.

Every morning lately, I wake up thinking that maybe today's the day when my life will begin to feel good again. I wake up with the idea that I'll be open to opportunity, that I will let my prejudices and cynicisms relax enough so that luck will weasel its way in. I open my eyes to the hope that maybe by nightfall I will know who I am and that all the worry can be retired for a time. Maybe today will be the day I find my purpose, or I will find a job that suits me better than anything I had ever imagined. Maybe today is the day I'll be told something wonderful is going to happen for me. Maybe today will have conversation over teacups with new friends, diamond rings hidden in cake, lucky numbers, great hair, chocolate, 'you win!', 'you're hired!', 'you're wonderful!'.

If I give up hope, then there'll be nothing left to hold on to.