Yesterday I had an interview for a fantastic job. It was in my field. The money was good. I tried to go. I wanted to go. I. Just. Couldn’t. Do. It. I had two interviews Monday and three on Friday. I’m just exhausted. Mentally, physically and psychologically. I’m tired of being asked the same questions. I’m tired of waiting for the phone to ring and and I’m most tired of my drained bank account.
In truth, while this job has a lot of perks, it’s in the next county over and it would be an hour commute more or less daily each way. Given the cocktail of pills I take for seizure control and and anxiety, I did not relish the idea of that much time on the road. My other concern was only having half a tank of gas and some change, what would I do in an emergency? I live day to day hoping for the phone to ring to end this cycle of the unknown.
Then there’s my mother’s solution. I have no intention of doing it, but she says I am a drain on the family resources and I should kill myself. The lengths she goes to lie and turn other family members against me for the mere “sin” of having disabilities are staggering.
I am writing a book about my struggles, challenges and successes living with my condition, and lack of support.