Of course, that isn't the case anymore. I know many of you, if only virtually. I've met some of you face to face. My anonymous letter in a bottle has become more like the Christmas newsletter to family and friends. It taints the writing. I tried years ago to get around this by making "Private" entries, accessible only to me, but that tainted the writing as well. Without some sort of potential audience the writing got sloppy and read like shorthand. No need to hone what's been written in private for solitude; my own writing is never going to impress me.
It's time for another message in a bottle. Time to fold a letter into a paper airplane and toss it off the Empire State Building. What's the worst that can happen? A littering fine?
It's no secret that the last couple of years have been stressful. I've tried to play down how the stress affects me, because that's not what anybody wants to hear. Optimism, stiff upper lip, making lemonade from lemons: this is the stuff people like. And, to a certain extent, faking that can get a person through tough times.
I had this weird idea that after all the stress from my previous job all I wanted was a job where I could go to work, do exactly what was asked of me, and then leave behind at the end of a shift. Once I realize that I wasn't going to be hired for a job that required my veterinary license, I was almost relieved. I thought perhaps a "lower skill" job would be more appropriate for me. I'd proved myself more than competent at learning new things and the idea of someone else taking on the stress and letting me just do the work was appealing. Unfortunately, my advanced education prevented me from getting such a position. Ironic, n'est pas?
I thought my answer to the unemployment problem and my own stress problems would be to get my Pharmacy Technician license. CPhT's are in huge demand, and I imagined the job would be fairly well defined and something I settle into relatively quickly. I thought that I was just unlucky with my Big Box Pharmacy technician job, but things are even more stressful at High Output Private Pharmacy, where I have been training/working as a customer service representative. Things I have learned since getting my certification and finally finding employment:
1. We severely underpay low-level help in the United States. I have no idea how clerks, technicians, line workers, and others get by on jobs that even pay twice minimum wage. Thirty-two hours a week at $12/hour doesn't even begin to pay my cat's bills, much less my own.
2. Full time jobs are far more difficult to find than I realize, especially at low-pay levels. Cheaper to employ two somebodies for twenty-hours a week than one full-time somebody for forty-hours a week and full benefits.
3. This is not a good time for any business in the US right now. Even the pharmacies, which are supposed to be a growth industry, are laying off, cutting back, demanding more work from fewer people in less time. It's like trying to run a car economically by cutting back on oil changes. Eventually the engine is going to seize.
4. I do not foresee how I will put anything away for retirement in years. Between my lack of saving a dime in the last two years and the nose-dive the market took that took a divot out of my savings that has yet to show signs of being replaced, I will not have nearly enough to retire.
5. I do not handle new jobs well. They are as stressful as my old job. I begin to believe that I am simply an easily stressed person, best kept on a shelf, to be brought out only for occasional admiration and dusting. I have not slept well for weeks, my irritable bowel has flared with a vengeance with no relief from the dicyclomine. I'm nauseous half the time, and stress-eating the other half.
I spend time these days playing coulda/woulda/shoulda in my head, going back three decades. Should have majored in what I wanted in undergraduate school rather than try to meet expectations. Should have been content with my paralegal position. Should have never been talked into going to vet school. Should have tried harder to make a living writing. Not a healthy way to spend one's time.
I also spend time these days feeling guilty about all this. Suck it up, do the job(s), be grateful The Prof is able and only too glad to support me through all this. Try harder to find a real job. Keep this to myself, so I'm not dragging everybody else down or driving them all away. Pack it all up, like a message in a bottle, and toss it into the sea.
I'm not looking for sympathy. Frankly, that just makes things worse. I just want my life back. And I don't think that's going to happen.