My existence is my resistance

And here's my whole new level of understanding.
*deep sigh*

I was telling a friend that I had messed up on a couple of resumes but I was justifying it by saying the law of averages means those particular resumes will go into the 'never had a chance' pile, clearing the way for my fixed resume to have a chance at these other jobs.

I tell myself things like, "I didn't really deserve the job if I'm willing to send them a botched resume."

Which is not untrue, but why am I telling myself this? Clearly, since I didn't take the time to send them information in a respectful manner, I don't deserve the job, but why do I set myself up to not deserve a job?  Was it a mistake, a slip of consciousness, or did I just really set myself up to fail?

Feeling like I don't deserve something is the answer my gut tells me.  I tell myself, well, I'll just apply for this barely-over-minimum wage job because I need to finish this task over here first.  But the truth is, I don't do better because I tell myself deep-down that I don't deserve better.

I'm getting too old to have these kinds of thoughts.  I need to get the hell over it.  I do deserve a decent wage and a decent job and self-respect.  Because I exist.

Filling out apps, pretending to be excited about each and every single position I'm applying for. Knowing full well that I'm going to be at this job for maybe 1 year or 2.  The process is tiring.  I'll be honest, I miss the temp job places.  Where they don't care about your attitude, whether you're busting at the seams to be there or not.  You just show up and they shuffle you off to some drudgery work and you get it done and money is loaded onto your card.  

I'm tired of pretending I'm more invested emotionally, physically, mentally than the owner of the company.  I'm tired of trying to find positions that match with my unique sets of skills and work experience, because nobody gives a shit unless you have specialized yourself in whatever position they have opened.

There is fear on the side of the business owner/manager because they have to invest money in hiring a person, more than they will recoup in that time.  I get the hype.  

Frankly, the hoops are tiring.  My attitude is spent.  Shitty supervisors are getting more common, or maybe I am just more wise.

Twenty years ago, people called me a rug, I let people walk all over me.  Now I'm told I have attitude. 

Yeah, I have attitude.  I got tired of the game, the bullshit, the frustration of my life. Coupled with having to do jobs that are crap.  People say find your passion and you will never work a day in your life. My passion is observation.  Light interaction.  Guess you could say my passion is merely bullshit.  Now I'm getting too old to go back and try to figure out how to make a career built on bullshit work.  

My last job, I'll be honest, I did have the balls nor the interest to do.  I felt I was doing the business owner a dis-service by being there.  Granted, the job had other issues, but quite frankly, I just don't want to put up with bullshit.  I like a certain type of bullshit.  

So, tomorrow is my born date.  I wanted to spend the day with my birthmother, but this didn't happen.   My mother and I reunited quite a few years ago.  I wanted to ask her lots of questions about it.  She's not had the chance to tell me about her experience as a mom. When I first met her, she told me about the events surrounding my taking.  I was taken from her and put up for adoption.  I was adopted in 1975, three years before the Indian Child Welfare Act, not sure when the state took me.

 My birthday is a mixed occasion for me; happy to be alive, sad about what happened to my mom.   Adoptees are handed a legacy that is taken away from us when we are picked up and placed on another path.  Altho, it's not any different than anyone else's path, really, not any more significant or less, it just is.  For native America, it's strained, I guess.  I was taken because of my mother's skin color.  'The taking.'  My mom has not been right since.  As one would expect the event devastated her.
But now, like any mom, she gets mad at me because I don't call often enough or come to visit enough.  Which makes me smile, and close my eyes, and breathe deeply the essence of being loved.   Love has no conditions, no control.  It simply is.  I didn't understand how it worked with my son until I met my mom. My mom relates to me the same way I relate to my son.

Understanding how love works helps me to understand my adopted dad.  He simply loved me and gave me his name. Which is pretty significant to give a stranger your name.  I will always be grateful for him and grateful for my heritage.  My adopted dad walked on in 1995 and it seems I miss him more now than ever.  I miss him on birthdays.  Birthdays make me think of home, perfectly frosted cakes made by my step-mom, and the smell of forest; the smell of pine; sap; wild rose bushes, the sound of Omak creek gurgling.

My birthdays generally come and go. Nothing significant happens.  I joined a small online community a couple of years ago who celebrated it today.  That was quite lovely.  That will probably be the extent of it.

 

So scared.  Not even sure why.  I fear what's going to happen, and what won't happen and most of all nothing at all.  Fear has bullied me, stymied me, tripped me, I wait for fear to take a nap so I can tiptoe over it only to find myself taking a nap instead.

It occurred to me that I like commas far too much and I place them, unnecessarily, everywhere.  Time to read Rule of Thumb again.  So many books to read this summer.

I felt bored yesterday and a bit lonely today.  When I first realized I was bored, I thought how childish of me, I have a camera and books to read, and I am fully capable of finding things to do.  As I was getting ready to take my daily walk, I realized I am over my ex-partner.  Truly over him and the grief of another lost relationship.  I know this because my brain was free to realize I wasn't crunching the grief or finding things to distract me from it. A very freeing feeling and one that makes me very happy.  I didn't come out of it unscathed, where I once had furniture (that he is now in possession of) I have weight gain, I am slower.  Our break up came in the middle of a four-year depression.  Took my legs right out from under me.  Medication, food, and isolation did not help.  Not a method to prescribe to, that's for sure.  Education and support held me.  But, I am not sure I was capable of anymore, energy-wise.  The energy simply wasn't there.  I kept eating thinking that would give me energy, but it only served to slow me down.

Sometimes, I realize things too harshly. In the aftermath and the wreckage of depression, I see again, the gentleness of the grass growing and from a distance how soft and billowy tree branches move in the breeze. Trees are ironic.  Six pelicans have been swimming in the pond.  I love watching pelicans, it's like watching something be a caricature of itself.

My legs are returning to me, along with my strength.  I forget how strong I am and sometimes when a flash of anger arises, I deal with people harsher than I realize.  Chill is typically my middle name.

I am putting off what I know I inevitably have to do. Fear.  Because once this last stretch is done, then the next chapter has to be written, and that's the scary one.  It involves rejection.  I hate rejection, I also loathe ridicule, which happens to large people a lot.  I need a plan to deal with it.  Like a song or something. And a note reminding me to breathe.  Made the note, I keep a little sketchbook by my laptop and every day I blind draw my fist, date it.  One day, I want to show my artist friend, whom I asked to teach me how to draw, and she said, this first, so I learn to see with my eyes.

I wake up each morning, wonder what the heck I'm doing this for.
There's no meaning to it.  It's just the same thing, everyday.
A scramble to meet the human efficiency quota.
    Capitalism--making sure every human has a measurable financial output.  And if not, your only escape is homelessness, or death.
                                  There is no other option.  No alternative lifestyle.  This is it.
Gotta count prison out.  It now has is its own capitalist rewards. For the prisoners and the prison system.

Money has tainted the world.  It truly is the root of all evil.  I see it now.  There are places fish no longer swim because the waters have been fished out.  We no longer have a variety of foods to eat, because the main corporations have selected a few key food crops to produce.  Streamlining productions make sense, but is not practical to the health of the world at large.

I abhor the system and yet, have to attend the university, to survive.  but due to circumstances beyond my control, I flunked a couple of semesters, and now I am on academic suspension.

I don't want to do this anymore.  This game is too harsh.  People say, no, it's easy.  But for me.... it's never been easy.  I wasn't born to easy people, nor adopted by easy people.  I didn't make adult decisions easily.  I didn't marry easy.  I did, however, divorce easily.  There is one area that is significantly easy....and that is being a mom.  Loving my son is the easiest thing I have ever done.  He warms my heart. 

The system of survival we have now, doesn't have moments of grace for the sick, the weak, or the ill.  If you have depression, well, sucks to suck. If you have cancer, sucks to suck.  If you have a lower than average i.q.....

 I can't tell you how many times I have allowed my emotions to run amok.

My anxiety over my last employment situation has caused me to procrastinate.  bleh.  I am ready to
to move on.

The older I get, the more I hate rejection.

I really really wish I wasn't just wandering around with no clue.  If I had a clue, things might be easier.  But I have no idea. It's like I'm supposed to know what I want.  And I don't know.  I want some little things, security, not to be homeless, happiness.  I thought this was a good idea, but I have no idea where to go from here.  What do I do?
So protip from a life-long wanderer;  Don't squander today.  Get help if you feel you are drowning.  The anxiety is hard.  The anxiety from exposure is even tougher to push past. Please, find someone who can hold your hand while you take the next step.  Someone will.  All it takes is one person.  Even just saying they will.
If I could imagine telling someone that a good reason to not date me, if I were dating, it would be that I have no direction. It's as if I'm just treading water, infinitely.  People pass me by, I smile, I'm nice, I help when I can.  But really, it's all going nowhere.  And for what?  I am just putting one foot in front of the other.

Royal Blood - Figure It Out [Official Video]