I looked for the source of my fear and I found it. I determined I’d let the fear go.
My brain promptly said “bitch, that anxiety was there for a reason – did you think I was being irrational? I didn’t want you thinking about things that make you want to kill yourself.”
Domestic life has felt like drudgery and chores since I was a young child. I didn’t want to clean, I didn’t want to care for children, I didn’t want to cook. All of that was horribly boring to me.
But, the God I grew up with was a God that taught through suffering. If there was something you hated and didn’t want to do with your life, that God would put you on that path, because that was how you would learn to trust and obey him. And obedience and trust would eventually lead through suffering and result in joy.
That God was bullshit.
But I believed in that God back then, and so I embarked on a life of suffering, to please him but really to please my mom and my husband. I set aside all the things I loved, because if I loved anything more than God, God would be displeased and God would take it away, so I might as well surrender it voluntarily.
So here I am, having thrown away my life to please a bullshit God, my mom and my husband. That God is no longer in my life, except in memories that haunt me. My mom sympathizes with my husband and thinks I need that bullshit God back in my life. My husband thinks I owed him free labor, children and domesticity because “we were married.”
I have never felt so much like a tool. An object. And not the kind of object that gets treasured – the kind of object that is simply one among thousands, that will be discarded and replaced as soon as it is worn.
Working retail makes me feel that exact same way, but at this point in my life, there’s no obvious worth to me outside of being a replaceable part and so retail is where I have the highest chance of getting hired.
Indy M suggested a specific retail chain to me, said she had a friend there that liked it. I looked it up, and the description of the job made my soul shrivel, even though the company seems better to work for than many retail chains. I investigated further and found out this chain still allows people to submit paper applications. That’s almost unheard of in this day and age. So I went and picked up an application, filled it out and turned it in.
As I left, I had the cynical thought that now I could get rejected by places I don’t even want to work, and I started crying.
I was in the middle of venting to A & H when I realized I’d missed a call and had a voicemail. It turned out to be from the man I’d handed my application to, and he wanted to know if I could come in for an interview on Monday. So, that was a good sign. I should be happy, right?
Except I’m not. Everything I hate about retail, all the ways it compares to my childhood and my marriage are still there.
If I even get hired, I’m going to be a divorced mom of 4 in her late 30s working in a grocery store.
That’s basically the lite version of my worst nightmare. What is my worst nightmare? Being one of those middle aged women with death in their eyes working a cash register at Walmart. I would literally rather be dead than have that be my life.
I suppose I sound like a melodramatic idiot. I kind of hate myself for caring so much, for hating this prospect so much.
I woke up this morning with a quote from Eowyn going through my head:
“What do you fear, lady?” Aragorn asked.
“A cage,” Éowyn said. “To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.”
Someone point me in the direction of the nearest Nazgul, please.