Stop me if you’ve heard this one before—either I am suffering from seasonal affective disorder, or I am trapped in deep, dark depression. I am familiar with both, and my life has been nothing but a morass of anxiety, depression, and frustration for approximately four years now. I cannot find a job, or career, or decent source of income; I am nearly thirty-one years old and have seldom ever been in a self-supportive job. I have never been in a mature, adult relationship. As the years quickly pass I grow increasingly disillusioned with life, humanity, and my own abilities. By the time I marry and have children, I will be too old to enjoy any of the experience. I was already a poor candidate for everything, and now that I have to take at least one day per month for a doctor’s visit, it seems even more unlikely any employer or woman would want to hitch their horse to my wagon.
It is all but impossible to find a job around here unless you A) have nepotism on your side or B) know someone who can connect you with someone important. Sadly I am not related to anyone in a position of power, and some people whom I have known for my entire life pretend not to know me. I would actually love to move away from here, away from the horrible winter weather and sycophancy and the general sense of hopelessness that permeates Appalachia. But as I cannot earn the required income to move or find a job anywhere, I am stuck here until I die. It makes me wonder why I tried so hard to overcome a tumor and major surgery, because despite my positive thinking to the contrary, my life has not been vastly improved.
I used to count myself amongst the small subset of population who considered themselves optimists, but too many years of unemployment and rejection have led me to realize that positive thinking and hopefulness only lead to more disappointment and rejection when your dreams are stomped on and strewn against the hard, sharp rocks that line the oceans of life. No one is willing to train anymore, yet you can’t get a job without prior experience. The entry-level jobs that should be open to college graduates are not open to me, and the longer I am unemployed the longer I seem destined to remain that way. Even when I am qualified for a position, someone else always receives it over me. I get it already: I am ugly, have terrible interpersonal skills, and don’t present my best self during interviews. But I am a person, too, dammit, and I have feelings and desires and needs. I have skills and abilities. I have two college diplomas and I know how to work hard. Any or all of my references would attest to that fact.