I spent most of this last weekend in a funk because my job search is going nowhere. This is nothing new. My job hunt has been diligently going nowhere for several months now, and on most days, it doesn't bother me too much.
But every once in a while, my tendency to feel sorry for myself asserts itself and I spend a couple of days being gloomy and unpleasant and thinking dark thoughts about all those happy
people who have it all.
I worry about being financially dependent. I fear that my hard-earned skills and expertise will become obsolete in this fast paced world. I crave the interaction and stimulation of the real world. I know my self-esteem is taking a beating, because shallow as it may sound, it is tied up inextricably with what I do.
And yet, if I'm being completely honest with myself, I must admit that if I wanted to work so badly, I would have tried much harder to find a job. Somewhere deep down, I think I am afraid to go back to work. Afraid that I will emerge, Rip Van Winkle like, into a work world that I am no longer equipped to handle. Afraid to deal with the guilt of stealing time from my daughter to satisfy my ego. Afraid of facing the working mom's dilemma.
I rail against the circumstances that have left me with no choice, but I am afraid of having that choice.
Apologies to those of you who may have expected a point to this post. There isn't one.