I'm around $20,000 in debt, which isn't nearly as much as some people, except for the fact that I have an income of $0/year and can't seem to find any work. I desperately want to get out of debt and on my feet. I know if I was working full time, it wouldn't take long to pay off my debts ($10,000 in student loans, $6,000 credit cards/bank debt, and the rest medical), but no one will hire me! I know I represent myself at least decently in interviews, but average isn't good enough . . . even for the fast food industry. Why can druggies find work, but I can't? I don't drink or smoke or do drugs, and I have a college degree.
I'm sorry . . . I know I'm not explaining this very well, but my mind is spinning and I'm trying to keep myself from hyperventilating. Ever since I graduated from college, I've been on the losing track. Things have gone from bad to worse, to hell and back and there again. I try to comfort myself with tales of "someday when I finish my novel" (which I've only just started) or "someday when I'm a published songwriter," but truth is, I spend my days crying and crying and trying to find some fantasy world (thus the novel) to occupy me and let me forget how much of a loser I am. But when my mind is chanting, "I only want to put in an honest day's work," it's hard to ignore my situation for long.
I know how to get out of debt: get a job. But I can't seem to find a job! I'm one of those overly-perfectionistic, self-critical, much-too-sensitive people, allowing life to beat me to a pulp. But I don't know how not to feel every sting of rejection, how not to cry myself to sleep, how not to spend my days mired in frustrated desire for something better, something at least . . . average.
"I just want a chance," I whisper to myself, and sometimes I allow that I deserve that chance, other times I torture myself with memories of too many failures. How can I, two years after graduating from college, still not have even a minimum wage job? I know I've been depressed, spent some time obsessed with an eating disorder (who would blame me after how life's disappointed me? - oh wait, they all blame me), but I fought back, I've spent months trying to reclaim my life, but . . .
Nobody wants me. I could give so much, but nobody wants me. Nobody thinks I deserve to even barely get by. They all think I deserve to die, to live this half-life, always afraid of losing my foodstamps or not using my shampoo because I'm afraid it'll run out or wearing too-small clothes with holes in them and shoes that are falling apart, and . . . I can't live with this worry, I just can't.
I would work hard just to know I'd have a quarter for the soda machine at Wal-Mart whenever I wanted it. I would work hard for clothes that fit, for my own transportation, for not having to worry about some guy on the bus taking a perverted interest in me, for dignity enough to not be ashamed to call my friends and hang out, for replacement deodorant, for the privilege of having a voice and speaking up for those who were once like me. I know what it is to starve. I know what it is to be too ashamed of yourself to allow yourself to have friends.
So this is half about debt, half about the desperation of poverty. And knowing that all I'd need to get out of it is the opportunity to put in an honest day's work. And then another. And another. Working the shame out of my system.
People say I'll find work in time. They say it casually because they don't have to constantly scan the street for displaced pennies. Then again, some people know where I'm coming from. They provide little encouragement because they cannot find anything better for themselves.
Where can I find the resilience? Will I ever stop panicking and crying myself to sleep at night?