Three years now.
I’ve been stuck. Officially stuck. Since June 1, 2017.
Everything in me wanted to see this appointment as being a hail mary. An answered prayer. God taking my whole situation into consideration and believing that I deserved this lifesaver. Surely I’d drown without it. Financially. Progressively with respect to my career. Emotionally.
But something told me it would be a struggle. And it has been. Everyday struggle. On all fronts. The only thing that has been amenable has been my compensation. For which they’ve leeches the lifeblood out of me to earn. There’s no peace there. No sense of accomplishment. No spirit of collaboration. No direction. It is the upside-down. It is the twilight zone. To which I regularly report. Every day for the last 3 years.
My therapist says that my applications may be tainted with the sheer desperation I feel and hence may be rejected because of that aura. I’m not sure how to not be this way. It is what I feel through and through. I’m emotionally waterboarded by this situation. I almost want to go online and scream at the top of my lungs… “Someone… please… help me…” But what would that do besides express more desperation. And honestly, I feel that my cries fall into a regular abyss now. I’ve been deemed unworthy to listen to it seems. Or maybe I’ve exhausted all my good fortune. My peak was a decade ago. There’s no more. What a peak it was. Everything was amazing. I can’t be ungrateful for that. Between Athena and BLS… it was all truly a dream. One that my therapist tells me I need to mourn and let go.
But I’m not sure what else to do. I’ve prayed. I’ve cried. I’ve tried to see the silver linings. I’ve squinted to find the lesson I should learn. I’ve examined every connection to see if I’m supposed to have met someone here that I could help or someone who will be instrumental in my life. I’ve attempted to adjust my core values to find a way to be comfortable in this place. I’ve prayed some more. I’ve resigned to this being a punishment for greater things I did wrong throughout my life. I’ve cried more.
I’m spent. I don’t know how to give up. I’m not seeing the light anywhere. This is the pure expression of my desperation. I pray that getting it out on “paper” might free some space up in my soul to help me through. I’m not sure how much further I can go. It’s such first world problems, I know. There are people literally dying right outside my door from a vast invisible virus and from the cancer of prejudice that rapes this nation constantly. I don’t mean to take away from their fight. I just don’t feel like I can be helpful if my sense of ability is crippled this way.
God help me.