Tears of a depressive clown

Waking up at 5am has it’s benefits (in the summer), but the darker it gets in the morning the more likely you are to find me being pathetic and beating my chest in frustration at the cruel fate which has me seeing the hour from the wrong side.

I guess I am referring to myself as a clown here, but so long as it’s just me saying it I guess it’s all right.

This morning I was forced to face something that I have so far not exactly ignored, but done my best to sweep under a really dusty old carpet. As I was standing in my shower, staring at tiles that somehow have started to look like deer (don’t ask), I cried.

I’ve been feeling low for a really long time, but the early mornings, long bus ride and lack of time with friends, family and Darcy are really starting to get to me. When my alarm went off at 5.03 this morning (yes, random time, I acknowledge I am unusual) it was still pitch black outside. It was so early that the street lights hadn’t even come on yet. In fact, when I left the house at 5.55 the street light outside my flat was still off. This fact, to me at least, signals that no one (neither man nor beast) should be up at this hour.

Anyway, back to the tears. I stood in the shower for a good five minutes fighting back hysterical sobs and realised that this has been coming for a long time, probably since I started seeing the wrong side of 6am. I am tired, irritable, have gained loads of weight (that I struggled so hard two years ago to get rid of), and every single aspect of my life has been affected.

Right now there is very little that I can do to change my lot for the better, well, not immediately. I have started to seriously (and by seriously I mean taking all the spare time in my day and putting it towards finding something else) look for a job. I have had a few interviews, obviously none were successful, but I am still hopeful that I am going to find something sooner rather than later, there are a few irons in my fire and I am hoping that one of them will explode (with potential).

Right now work is hugely demotivating. I have my fourth manager in eight months, and it seems that while “yes, everything you do is fine, thank you” are the buzzwords of the day/week/month, they aren’t exactly helpful when it comes to improving what I am doing. Last week I wrote a piece (or rather edited it) and sent it back, I had NO feedback at all – from anyone – and then the piece was posted and they’d rewritten pretty much everything I’d put in there. No feedback was forthcoming.

Am I being stupid in asking for constructive feedback so I can do my job properly, even if it is only for the next few months? I don’t know, sometimes I think that they are keeping me here to prove that they need the headcount, rather than because they a) like how I work and b) need me as an employee.

So this is me; feeling demotivated, demoralised, depressed and generally rubbish. I am in a job which clearly I shouldn’t have ever interviewed for (why did they give it to me in the first place?). But it will change, things will eventually turnaround for the better and I will start to feel like the old me again. Next month will be it, I have to have found a new job by then, or I will start the new year unemployed.

I have an interview this coming Friday for a job I don’t want (so I am more or less guaranteed to get it), the holiday allowance is so bad that they advertised it as ‘generous 20 days plus 8 bank holidays’ (this is the LEGAL minimum for full time employees in the EU/UK so it’s far from generous) and nothing else, no benefits, no pluses, no add-ons, just the bare minimum. I am contemplating not going to the interview at all, if only because the more I think about it the more I am sure it’s not the right role for me, on any level.

Oh well, such is life and all that jazz. I am going to keep on, try and be positive and put this morning’s mini meltdown into perspective. I am feeling rubbish, but it will go (it nearly always does). I have managed 9 months so far without becoming a mess, what’s a month or so more?

I hope that you’re all keeping well, and that you’ve found your thing (do you think it could become mine? Suggestions on a postcard).

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