Thank you, Blackdog.
I like your username–I have two, really big black dogs! They are Newfie/Lab/Belgian Shepherd mixes, and they are wonderful. They came as a package deal with my husband, and I promptly adopted them.
I swear to god/ess, if you catch me in few days, my crap colored glasses will have been re-adjusted. That being said, this stuff that’s coming out of me right now, boy, do I EVER want it to
I know, intellectually at least, that I’m not the only one that hasn’t lived up to there “potential.” I just want more for myself. I’m scared. I’m scared that I’ll be having these same feelings and having this same rant in 10 years. 20 years. 3o years…oh–to late, time to die.
My brother is the Web Editor of a weekly newspaper that just won an award for “Best Web page in North America. I am really, really happy for my brother. It’s funny though, I was the one that got aaaaalll the attention for my talents when we growing up. Where is my award? I know, that sounds terrible, doesn’t it? I can’t even just be happy for my brother’s achievement and leave it at that? I lOVE my brother.
The jobs I’ve held in my life include, barrista, call center customer service person, “exotic dancer,” short order cook, prep cook, waitress, bartender, stage hand, Alaskan cannery worker, salmon troll boat deck hand, sawmill helper, landscape laborer, a stint as a free lance reporter, and boat refinishing (painting/fiberglass repair, varnish, etc.)
I was fired from everything except: exotic dancer, stage hand, cannery worker, sawmill helper, and boat re-finisher, and free lance reporter. That last one was on a “need only” basis for a very small paper. Many of these however, were seasonal or temporary. Now, between all of these, I spent a lot of time unemployed and looking for work and trying not to feel bad about myself. For a while, I tried going back to school. I kept having to stop because I couldn’t afford it, or…I don’t know why–probably a lot of good reasons I think, my life always seemed to be one crises after another. Choices, however, aren’t always great when your poor. Come to think of it, they’re mostly lousy.
I haven’t worked in a few years. I am supposed to be retiring in what, 2o some odd years? Retiring…from what, exactly? What money am I going to live on? I’ve paid almost nothing into social security. I don’t have “savings.” I live in fear of being an old homeless lady pushing a cart full of cat food (and I won’t have a cat, get my drift?)
I only have one kid. What if he moves to Japan (oh wait, NOT Japan–Fukushima has “fuk-ud” up Japan.) and I just get a Christmas card from him every year that I pick up general delivery (because I’m homeless,) that says, “Wishing you a Merry Christmas. I hope your well, you’re loving Son.” Aaaaahhhhh…and she wakes up in a cold sweat.
Criminey, there I go, off on tangents again.
You’re right, I shouldn’t be so darn hard on myself. I know other people are struggling. I’ve known A LOT of other very bright, talented “strugglers.” Lots. Too many, in fact.In Port Townsend, I used to say my friends and I were in the “struggler’s club.”
I just want to accomplish some goals, pursue some long lost dreams, and maybe…I dunno, DO something with one of those “talents.” Before I’m dead.
Is that to much to ask?
Come to think of it, I could have just written that 3’d to last paragraph, and called it a day. Instead, I’m writing you a Novella of my life. As if my story is so damn important!
On that note, thanks for all you’re responses. I really, really appreciate someone who can have empathy and be the voice of reason, when I’ve lost it and tossed reason out the kitchen window.
Oh yeah, I’m on Vancouver Island. I just googled for support groups, and couldn’t find anything. I’m going to keep lookin’ around to see what I can find.
Thanks. Again! Oh yeah, and I don’t always just go on and on and on and on about myself. And I bet you’re wondering, “I see that she’s edited this…why isn’t it shorter???”