Beast Below (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beast_below) wrote2025-12-30 08:17 pm
beast_below) wrote2025-12-30 08:17 pm
Entry tags:
Five Years, Four Jobs & Three Breakdowns Later
Three breakdowns might be a bit inaccurate, but it had a nice ring to it. Really, it's sort of been one rolling breakdown with a handful of major spikes to it.
Either way, it's been a while.
There is no real good way to summarize such a long period of time, and it's been quite a ride. I would be remiss not to try.
The last thing I had written here was right after I had graduated, worrying about going into the job market. As expected, my fears turned out to be correct -- worse yet, they were more correct than I could have ever imagined.
One temporary job lead into a more permanent job at another company that left me with more PTSD walking out of it than I had walking in. It eroded my confidence in ways I couldn't have ever imagined and left me more suicidal than I had been since I was a teenager.
While I was at that job, we were given a deeply difficult choice: I could keep my job there and we could buy a house, or I could leave it and gamble on a completely different career.
We had been looking at houses for months. I had been deeply, deeply invested in getting a house and moving back into the city. Grim begged me to take the riskier option, (legitimately and fairly) fearing for my continued existence.
I took the riskier option. Quit my job, and took the other position.
... it did not work out. After two and a half years, all I have to show for it is the re-accumulation of all the debt I had scraped and fought to pay off in order to be able to buy a house. Six months ago, I would have said it at least did not contribute to the erosion of my self-confidence, it just didn't help built it back up. However, six months ago the owner of the company had a traumatic life event and has been taking it out on the company. So, unfortunately, that is no longer true, either.
The work conditions became so toxic, I had to put in my resignation in early November. As it is case-based, I am just now wrapping up.
I picked up a job at a hotel in December, but the pay was so bad and it was just so miserably disorganized, I couldn't continue and quit this week.
So, after five years, despite all of my best efforts, I have only managed to go backwards. With so many failures behind me, I legitimately have no idea how to possibly go forward. Grim and I have been discussing the idea of taking some time off work, but I just don't know if it's really feasible.
Similarly, there has both been a lot going on with my health, and nothing. Countless doctors appointments, physical therapy, three different pain clinics, an ulcer from OTC painkillers... but also, no improvement. No new medications. No treatments. Even after the ulcer, the only answer was "well, damn, you have to stop taking OTC meds cold turkey I guess. :/ "
It's difficult not to feel terribly hopeless about my health. To feel like my life has been stolen.
On top of it all, we lost Vinny suddenly this year. He was 16, which isn't young for a cat, but we took him to the vet regularly and all of his bloodwork had come back healthy just a few months before. He had been looking and acting fine... right up until he wasn't. We spent a hectic three days, hours at the emergency vet and thousands of dollars, and we still lost him. Just, out of nowhere.
It was devastating. I love all our babies, but he was my first. He was mine. He was the one who had taken it upon himself to be my service animal, and knew when I was going to have a flare, and knew when and where and how to put pressure on my body.
It's been nine months, and it still hurts. Sometimes I still look at the corner of the bed and imagine him there, on that last day. When he couldn't move, and cried when I closed the curtain to the bathroom and he couldn't see me.
I had wanted to get a tattoo of his paws on my wrist for him, because he had this habit of laying on my wrist and trapping my arm. I'd still like to do that, hopefully soon.
We also just lost Bowz, our bearded dragon, too. He was also on the young end of 'senior,' being only 9-ish. He wasn't well-bred, so we weren't too surprised, but were really hoping for several more years for him as well.
And unfortunately, I know it's just beginning. We timed getting all of our pets very, very poorly and they are all reaching senior status at the same time. Basically everyone except for Eli.
It's all just been... so much, and there's no sign of it slowing down anytime soon.
... hm. I feel a little like Kafka. Perhaps journaling is not greatly conducive to my mental health.
Hopefully that's just an artifact of catching up. I'd like to think so.
Either way, it's been a while.
There is no real good way to summarize such a long period of time, and it's been quite a ride. I would be remiss not to try.
The last thing I had written here was right after I had graduated, worrying about going into the job market. As expected, my fears turned out to be correct -- worse yet, they were more correct than I could have ever imagined.
One temporary job lead into a more permanent job at another company that left me with more PTSD walking out of it than I had walking in. It eroded my confidence in ways I couldn't have ever imagined and left me more suicidal than I had been since I was a teenager.
While I was at that job, we were given a deeply difficult choice: I could keep my job there and we could buy a house, or I could leave it and gamble on a completely different career.
We had been looking at houses for months. I had been deeply, deeply invested in getting a house and moving back into the city. Grim begged me to take the riskier option, (legitimately and fairly) fearing for my continued existence.
I took the riskier option. Quit my job, and took the other position.
... it did not work out. After two and a half years, all I have to show for it is the re-accumulation of all the debt I had scraped and fought to pay off in order to be able to buy a house. Six months ago, I would have said it at least did not contribute to the erosion of my self-confidence, it just didn't help built it back up. However, six months ago the owner of the company had a traumatic life event and has been taking it out on the company. So, unfortunately, that is no longer true, either.
The work conditions became so toxic, I had to put in my resignation in early November. As it is case-based, I am just now wrapping up.
I picked up a job at a hotel in December, but the pay was so bad and it was just so miserably disorganized, I couldn't continue and quit this week.
So, after five years, despite all of my best efforts, I have only managed to go backwards. With so many failures behind me, I legitimately have no idea how to possibly go forward. Grim and I have been discussing the idea of taking some time off work, but I just don't know if it's really feasible.
Similarly, there has both been a lot going on with my health, and nothing. Countless doctors appointments, physical therapy, three different pain clinics, an ulcer from OTC painkillers... but also, no improvement. No new medications. No treatments. Even after the ulcer, the only answer was "well, damn, you have to stop taking OTC meds cold turkey I guess. :/ "
It's difficult not to feel terribly hopeless about my health. To feel like my life has been stolen.
On top of it all, we lost Vinny suddenly this year. He was 16, which isn't young for a cat, but we took him to the vet regularly and all of his bloodwork had come back healthy just a few months before. He had been looking and acting fine... right up until he wasn't. We spent a hectic three days, hours at the emergency vet and thousands of dollars, and we still lost him. Just, out of nowhere.
It was devastating. I love all our babies, but he was my first. He was mine. He was the one who had taken it upon himself to be my service animal, and knew when I was going to have a flare, and knew when and where and how to put pressure on my body.
It's been nine months, and it still hurts. Sometimes I still look at the corner of the bed and imagine him there, on that last day. When he couldn't move, and cried when I closed the curtain to the bathroom and he couldn't see me.
I had wanted to get a tattoo of his paws on my wrist for him, because he had this habit of laying on my wrist and trapping my arm. I'd still like to do that, hopefully soon.
We also just lost Bowz, our bearded dragon, too. He was also on the young end of 'senior,' being only 9-ish. He wasn't well-bred, so we weren't too surprised, but were really hoping for several more years for him as well.
And unfortunately, I know it's just beginning. We timed getting all of our pets very, very poorly and they are all reaching senior status at the same time. Basically everyone except for Eli.
It's all just been... so much, and there's no sign of it slowing down anytime soon.
... hm. I feel a little like Kafka. Perhaps journaling is not greatly conducive to my mental health.
Hopefully that's just an artifact of catching up. I'd like to think so.