Being unemployed is really a sad place to be.
I went to the shoe store the other day to check in on my application and she asked the dreaded question. "Why don't you work at Albertsons anymore?"
I stuttered something incomprehensible about my diagnosis which, I'm sure, she heard as "I am not dependable and mentally incompetent."
It is immature to feel like a victim here? Mental disorders are, in my experience, vastly underestimated. Example: You call in to work. "I am unwell." "Do you ave a fever?" "No." "Get your ass down here." Meanwhile I can't breathe and am making a general fool of myself, raving on about something, crying and screaming.
The reason why working at Albertsons was so awful was more than the fact that the hectic atmosphere triggered my panic attacks, more than the fact that I felt trapped in that building, but that I felt disrespected. Sure, some of my coworkers were sympathetic, but the general consensus about me as an employee seemed to be "You are weak. You are lazy. You make up excuses."
In a way, they were right. I am weak, I am so afraid of myself that even thinking about the possibility of having an attack is usually enough to keep me from doing what I really want to do. I am lazy, I am so damn tired of fighting this and I would love nothing more than to just crawl into bed and never leave it for the rest of my days.
But I do not, I do not, make up excuses for myself. Despite being weak and lazy, I still get up and fix my hair every morning. I still search for a new job. I still put on a happy face for the sake of my loved ones.
Somtimes it's too hard. I'll admit that. But I still try.
I know people don't understand, I can't expect them to, but can't they look at it the way I do? I am not less worthy because life is hard for me, I am more worthy because I live it anyway.