Memoirs Of A Graduate

Pre-read warning: This blog is quite depressing. You know why, I'm quite depressed; and writing about it helped a little. If you don't want to read about me being upset; don't read it. Don't say I didn't warn you. 

I’ve always figured I’d be a good therapist because I’ve got the right traits;  I’m a good listener, I’m empathetic and compassionate. The one issue is I’m too emotional, if something upsets me I can’t help but show it. I wear my heart on my sleeve. Which in the middle of a therapy session isn’t ideal. You have to be neutral, still empathetic; but if they’re telling you a tragedy, you can’t well up.

It’s not always a trait I like having. Sometimes it’s beneficial, but when I am sad, I hate it. A one off is okay but if it’s more long term then I don’t like to be that person whose always on a downer, because they’re not fun people to be with. After a long enough period it just gets annoying. So it annoys me that’s how I feel at the moment.

Work is the biggest contributor. It’s mental that when I started, 13 weeks ago; I was elated. I was good at the job, so much so I advanced quickly and just a few weeks my role held much more responsibility. It did feel like my niche and I didn’t dread the early morning, the full day of work; I actually quite looked forward to it. It’s gone from that; to feeling sick about going on. On a day to day basis fighting to get up and resist the temptation to throw up thinking about setting off. Sitting at my desk and watching the clock, counting down the hours until I can leave again. It’s not nice, at all. I probably would have quit by now if I didn’t need the money.

My tooth ordeal didn’t help and although technically I’m well I still feel drained from it. I didn’t really rest up during, and haven’t rested up after so my body’s still screaming at me for that.

RIP Simba x.x.x

Then the rabbit died on Saturday. It was a blow. Taking her to the vet because she was being a bit lethargic. I thought she had a cold or something. At worst an infection. Instead the vet tells me she has a 10% of survival from treatment. So the horrible decision came to ‘ease her suffering early’ as the vet put it. There are few things in this life worse than the experience of signing a piece of paper saying you give consent for something to be killed. Something you love. That’s not something I ever want to have to do again.

I’m trying to fight feeling sad, I’m trying not to let it get to me. But the fact of it is; it IS getting to me. I don’t feel like myself lately. I don’t feel human lately. It doesn’t make sense to be so tired yet unable to sleep. To feel like bursting into tears 90% of the time. I hate saying that, I hate how it sounds, that really isn't the person I am. 

The biggest thing bringing me down is something I don't even want to go into on here. But, with everything thing else going on it's totally overwhelmed me. I've never felt more insecure. But saying that I do have support. It's making me really see who my friends are; and they've very much keeping me afloat; and Jake of course. I feel so bad on him acting the way it has been; I'm not fun to be around at the moment. 

I said in an earlier blog I don't believe in karma, and I don't. I'm not saying I'm a perfect person, I have fucked up many times, but I know I'm a good person. I don't 'deserve' everything going on. I'm just hoping there's a valid cause; maybe the intention is to push me away - to leave the job, or even Liverpool for some higher purpose? Whatever it is, I'm hoping it will make itself known, sooner rather than later. I want to get my life back on track, and be better company for the people in it.