anxiety

Work alludes, but everyday is spent working to find work. I’ve been unemployed since October. My boss was a passive aggressive micro-manager who hired me for a job she wouldn’t let me do. I ended up in the ER for gallbladder issues that turned out to be stress related. About two weeks later I put in my resignation and put everything in order for a successor they hadn’t hired by my end date. On my last day, I was finishing up going over details with the employee who would cover for my role when the CEO walks by and says, “We are done with you. You can leave.”

I do not regret leaving, but not having a paycheck is beginning to wear on me. I’m scared. I began to write that I am close to being scared, but no. I am scared.

I tell myself to trust- that the role I need to fill is out there and I’ll find it soon. But I’ve never been very good at trust and I have to hold a home together for my daughter. I don’t want to overreact, but right now I feel like a caged animal who is dependent on a source it can’t identify to keep it alive. I am incredibly lucky, I had accumulated a “fuck you” account and have enough savings for two more months rent and a full refrigerator and friends who would catch me, but none of that is enough to keep the anxiety away.

When I free dive, at about 20 feet, silence is heavy and its safe and perfect for a few short seconds. Lately, my ears have begun randomly filling with the sounds of the deep, followed by highest extended ping of tinnitus. This will be accompanied by my heart rate increasing. I know it’s panic and blood pressure. I go outside and walk or take a very hot bath. It doesn’t feel safe like the deep, but I know it’s me and it’s reactive and it passes.

If it were just me, I’d feel safer. I know I can go it alone. I know I could work for $15/hour and be fine. I could work nights and eat ramen. True, I could do that with my daughter and we’d find a way. Hell, she could stay with her dad more and I could get a smaller place or we could live in a smaller place- we’ve done it before. But I want a place that’s comfortable and safe and calm. Food that is plentiful. That’s not too much to desire. It’s what everyone deserves.

As I write all this I feel like I sound trivial and entitled. I sound spoiled and self-righteous. But I don’t care anymore. I’m tired and angry and I just want to write and travel and help mama’s bring their babies into the world and I can’t do that because I have to pay $1,600/month in rent and keep a roof over my kid’s head and be a rational (read: consumer) human being at the end times of capitalist America.

Yes, it’s true. I don’t HAVE to be / do anything.