Welcome back our diva, Sass! Here to hit you with another guest post. Let’s get into it!
In a month that has seen so much good for other people (Trash’s new job, Class’ upcoming play, Kim & Kanye getting the Vogue cover, Chris Brown goes to jail…wait, what?), it’s been a pretty bad one for me.
Full disclosure: I work a job I hate. Like, hate. HATE. HATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATE. HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful that I have a job, because Sallie Mae doesn’t care either way; those payments are still due. As are rent, utilities, car insurance, and other bills. All due, and they don’t care about anything besides a receiving payment on the correct date. So I’m glad that I can make those payments and be an upstanding member of society, but I wish I was able to do that with a job that didn’t make me physically sick each day. I often come home nauseous with headaches, sleepless nights dreading the next day, etc. It’s a mess.
Over the past nine months or so, I’ve been applying for other jobs to no avail. I end up getting interviews that go nowhere. So what made this month particularly vomit-inducing? Over the past two weeks, I’ve received roughly 15, “Thanks, but no thanks” emails and phone calls in response to my interviews and resume submissions. That much rejection isn’t good for a person! It messes with your mind…just ask Kenya Moore!
The rejection, coupled with the overall disgusting-ness of my job, have put quite a damper on my mood this month. I also don’t have a lot of friends where I live, so I’ve lacked an outlet to blow off steam. It’s a little much right now, and I have to admit that I’m not myself. The feelings of defeat and failure almost choke me every day, leading me to wallow in a pit of despair. Again, I’m not normally like this. I’m the happy, bubbly girl, always up for a good laugh, who is always there to cheer up her friends. Meanwhile, many of my friends don’t care to, or don’t know how to, cheer me up. I haven’t shared my issues with a lot of people, because, like I said, I’m always the happy one. People act like they don’t know how to receive my pain, which causes them to almost dismiss my feelings. And that makes me angry. Very angry.
Here’s the thing: to have a friend, you need to be a friend. If you can come to me, crying about everything from a hang nail to death, then I would like the same. As I’m sitting around crying about feeling defeated, don’t tell me that it’s just because Aunt Flow is approaching and I’ll be fine when my hormones pass. If Aunt Flow was on the way, I would have beat the shit out of someone for saying that, and then peed on them , to literally add insult to injury. Wow, that was aggressive…someone get that girl some medication!
What makes it even worse (in my book anyway), is that it was a woman who said this to me. To belittle a woman’s feelings based on the fact that they’re hormonal is what sexist assholes do to women all the time. I’m not a huge feminist, but I don’t appreciate being belittled or insulted because my genitals resemble a taco more than they do the 14″ long, thick and perfectly shaped Italian sausage that I’m pretty sure I would have if I were a boy
*cue Beyonce. Always cue Beyonce.*
All in all, I’m just writing this just to point out that no matter the reason, gender, race, scale, or nature of your feelings, fears, dreams, aspirations, or doubts they are VALID. They matter. You are entitled to them and they are yours. Never let anyone project to you that anything that you feel is less than important. Don’t drown in your sadness, but don’t let anyone tell you that the reason for your sadness is wrong. Expressing your emotions is always better than internalizing them, so phone a friend. A good one. An understanding one. One that has no problem letting you cry on their left, while pouring shots with their right.