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.
