….every time I get used to this site’s setup they change it! Now this looks weird; it feels weird. Now I can’t remember what I wanted to post about today because all I can think about is how there’s no word counter to warn me when I get too wordy. I’m not seeing a spell check box. Great; now everyone will know how awful I really am at the whole “I do English good” thing. I am digging this sidebar menu though. For some reason it’s not showing me a preview. I only get the first three words. I hope it doesn’t publish like that!
And this is what brain injury is like folks! Constant confusion and distraction!
I hate change but what I hate more is commitment. Just ask my husband who’s not really my husband. We’ve been engaged for 8 of the 10 years we’ve been together. He’s my second fiance, actually. The first guy, Lennon, was such a flake and quite a bit older than me with less going for him than I’ve got going on now. He’s not a stroke survivor or disabled, he’s just not a go-getter.
Now my preview will show more than the first three words but only if I expand the preview. Change is so bizarre.
I’m not sure what scares me more: failure or success. I’m pretty good at failing but when it comes to success I seem intent to self sabotage and that I’m very successful at. Every job I’ve ever held I’ve gained praise and promotion. I think it’s because I worked for cheap. I was one of those “going rate” kind of employees. That totally effed me over now that I’m disabled and receive less than the national average in disability despite the fact I’ve been working since I was 14. What choice did I have though?
I always start out really well. I show up on time every day, I take extra shifts, stay late and go above my job requirements. The moment my hard work is recognized, however; my old slacker ways kick in. It’s like I got bored knowing that I could do the job in such a way that I was requested before anyone else. My last job was retail and I loved it just as much as I hated it. It’s a very demanding job and I was really good at it. I was sharp, I noticed details, I knew nearly every aspect of every position on the floor. I could climb ladders in 3 inch heels to hang mannequins, I could roll out z-bars of stock and replenish while pricing and providing semi-decent customer service. I knew how to do visuals, how to command my team and convince customers to apply for a credit card they didn’t need so I could see an extra two bucks in my paycheck.
I loved it and I miss it; I started to miss it the day after I walked out barefoot waving my heels high in the sky. Okay it wasn’t that dramatic but I wanted it to be. I actually snuck in from my lunchbreak, dropped my nametag in my locker with my associates discount card and snuck out wearing flip flops with my heels hiding under my arm. I was fed up; there’s a reason they say retail is one of the worst jobs a person can have. It’s stressful and makes you miserable and that check at the end of the week never feels worth it. So I couldn’t commit to that job as much as I wanted to. I was too afraid I’d become one of my bitter supervisors. I was offered more than supervisor. They wanted to take me under their wing and help me move up the same as the store manager had done. I decided it would take too long and too much work so I quit and went to school as if that commitment required less work and time.
Now I don’t know what to do. I hate being home all the time but I don’t think I’m ready to commit fully to keeping my disability and deficits from stopping me from progressing out of this house. I need a change but I have to be ready to commit to more than creating that change. I have to commit to enforcing and accepting it as well.
Right now I have no friends. I want friends just as much as I need them and considering I’m an introvert with moderate social anxiety, that’s kind of a big thing for me to want.
I wonder how many words this is; is it long?
I love Kasper but I need more. I love my kids but I feel like I spend more time yelling at them than being an affectionate mother. I need space I guess is what I’m getting at; and in that space I need different people. The only way I can get different people in my space is if I invite them. I can’t invite them unless I get out of my house. I can’t get out of my house unless I commit to the steps it takes to get the hell out of here. I can’t commit to those steps until I can fully agree to change.
I really wish there was spellcheck still.