Pendulum

    Two months after The Worst Night of My Life, in the middle of group therapy, I called my old job to tell them I was all better now and would like to come back to work. Neither of those things were true. I don't remember why I said them. One month later, I clocked out at the end of a shift, bought a Canada Dry from the liquor store in the shopping center and walked home in the rain. I got into bed and pulled the covers over my head and decided I would not go into work tomorrow, and then two years passed and I still haven't. I will occasionally get an email from a rich person who will ask me to stay in their house and watch their dog. I will eat their food and watch Bee & Puppycat on their Netflix account and make about 40 US Dollars. I'll make $100 at the end of the month if I keep my parents' kitchen relatively clean. I will spend this money on shit I don't need. I feel that I am reasonably happy. I feel that I am buried beneath the earth, and that it is raining. In two years I will be 26 years old and have to pay for my own health insurance to afford therapy and medication.

    A few days ago my friend strongly encouraged me to apply to work alongside him at a small dog kennel in town. They're hurting for people, the pace is slow and the interaction with people is minimal. They only want me to work weekends. I'd take home $200 per month. I've sent him my resumé. He knows my situation. His boss doesn't. Someone in charge is going to ask me about the missing two years. And I'm not going to tell them.

    About a week after I began writing this post, I went in and interviewed and got the job. 

    Four months after I began working, I was informed that the kennel would be shutting down. I had done it. I had completed a job without quitting or being fired. I hadn't even called out once. I liked that job. It was slow and it paid okay. Every so often a person walked in, and I fumbled my way through that. Then it was gone and I was sad about it then, but I'm not now. 

    One month ago I got caught for a bad thing I had been doing for two years, and the consequences are that I have to go to college now. I'm learning about career lattices. I was one day late on the assignment I turned in today. That's always how it starts. Every night I go to sleep praying that there is no such thing as a pattern and that my grip is not slipping.

    Anyone who has watched me for the last six months will tell you that I've been trying as hard as I can. I've always quietly taken exception to that. There must be an amount that I can try that will not result in failure and ruin. In two months and one year I will be 26 years old and have to pay for my own health insurance to afford therapy and medication. 

    Here is the point, and yeah I promise there is a point to this: I was in college and living at home in 2019. Then I ran away for four years. Now I'm back and I'm starting college again. It's as if none of it happened, except in two months and one year I will be 26 years old.