January 19th, 13 days after my last post...
I've been wanting to write but I couldn't. Why? I was too ashamed for one. I don't know what's wrong with me, what is this fear that has built itself inside me, and got stuck to the walls in my whole body; where did it come from; what caused it, or who? Me I guess... still doesn't make it better, still doesn't allow me to understand it and still doesn't keep me from failing as much as I do... Self-pity, what a lovely feeling to have about oneself, to hate who you see reflecting back at you in the mirror... and no, im not talking about good looks, although I've looked better than now, that's not it. Just a feeling of loss, of overwhelming guilt, of shame and sorrow, and the added fear of falling into depression more over, deeper, 'till it will be too hard to climb out...And so the panic attacks came, a sense of complete loss of control over everything, shortness of breath, more guilt, doctor's appointments, medication, confessions...That was when I felt I had hit rock bottom. So the 'story' begins:
Ready... moment when I decided it was time to change. Change everything, life, job, country even. So the goal was set. Next step: look for the way to achieve that. And so I did. Through a newspaper add, I applied for a job in England. During the process, I was being medicated, I was calmer, had the support of family, of my boyfriend, of friends, few but precious ones. Did the interview. A complete success, better even than expected. At the end of it, I was told I'd be a sure thing! So proud I was at that moment. I felt this energy come over me, something I had missed for a long while.
Going through the motions of exchanging emails with my future employers, phone calls, setting the date to "get out of dodge", buying some small stuff that I'd need later, it came up the opportunity of a job in the same place for a friend of mine, also my therapeutical support (since she's a psychologist). She went to the interview, got accepted and voilá, I was convinced now that that was the way to go. I needed that to reassure me everything would be ok, since I had attempt to leave the country on two other occasions and 2 weeks later I was back home, to the disappointment of "my community", but more so, to my own disappointment. But now it was "U.K. or Bust!"
Set... Everything was falling into place nicely. The deal was my boyfriend would go too if and when we'd find him a job there. So, heaven in the making. Not to say it would be easy to do so, but the British do aim to please their workers, and as soon as I talked to them about this, they were trying to find something for him, to enable his going to the U.K. as well. So the expectations rise. I have a job now, a good one, a full-time contract, with a decent pay and benefits, enough to allow me to dream of soon being able to have my own place, maybe even get married, who knows. Not much preparation needed for this trip. Just pack a suitcase for the 1st month or so (they would provide us with accommodation for that period and help us find a place to stay afterwards), some minor details to attend to here, book the flight and that would be it. Planned Date of Departure: 16th January 2009.
On the weekend of the 10th-11th January the 1st symptoms appeared... That terrifying fear, the sweaty palms, the sleep deprivation, heart racing, the not so eloquent speech. I'm no master of disguise and it was written all over my face. Mom read it instantly...
Go(ne)!... So by now I'm just feeling numb. I knew already what all this meant and it would be just a matter of time until the words would come out of my mouth, as they eventually did..."I'm not going..." I weighed all the pros and cons, as smart people usually do. The pros won, but they lost to me... Funny, or not really, but still odd, how even in the face of good fortune and promise of an eventual state of happiness, we, humans, or me, Andreia, manage to knock it all down like a frail castle of cards... And so I informed, as demanded, the ones close to me first. My mom didn’t need to be informed, her radar was and is working quite well when it comes to me. If you accustom people to something about yourself long enough, that's what they'll come to expect from you, in my case it was failure, even if she had hoped and was believing in the possibility of me proving her wrong...I did not. I told my boyfriend, who was divided between the sadness of seeing me lose yet again a good opportunity, and the happiness of seeing me stay close to him (also due to trust issues between us, cause I've stepped on him, without planning to do so, but still did, and regret it till this day, and till I'll die). Then my friends, the one who I was going with, and my best friend. Both shared the same opinion: "you're making a mistake, but ultimately, it's your call". Diplomacy... good at times, not so good when you're about to break down. But I don't blame them cause almost like my mom, they know who they're dealing with.
And finally, my future employers. "Dear... I regret to inform you...". Got a very polite and warm answer actually. But what could they do? I laid down the cards and told it as it was, how I felt, and how my strength is null, etc. Not much else to say about it.
So this time, I managed to fail without even trying. Takes talent huh?
It's January 19th, and I'm writing from my own bedroom, in my city, in my country, with no prospects, back at square one, or minus one...
My name is Andreia, you can look me up in the dictionary next to the word "failure"
Ready... moment when I decided it was time to change. Change everything, life, job, country even. So the goal was set. Next step: look for the way to achieve that. And so I did. Through a newspaper add, I applied for a job in England. During the process, I was being medicated, I was calmer, had the support of family, of my boyfriend, of friends, few but precious ones. Did the interview. A complete success, better even than expected. At the end of it, I was told I'd be a sure thing! So proud I was at that moment. I felt this energy come over me, something I had missed for a long while.
Going through the motions of exchanging emails with my future employers, phone calls, setting the date to "get out of dodge", buying some small stuff that I'd need later, it came up the opportunity of a job in the same place for a friend of mine, also my therapeutical support (since she's a psychologist). She went to the interview, got accepted and voilá, I was convinced now that that was the way to go. I needed that to reassure me everything would be ok, since I had attempt to leave the country on two other occasions and 2 weeks later I was back home, to the disappointment of "my community", but more so, to my own disappointment. But now it was "U.K. or Bust!"
Set... Everything was falling into place nicely. The deal was my boyfriend would go too if and when we'd find him a job there. So, heaven in the making. Not to say it would be easy to do so, but the British do aim to please their workers, and as soon as I talked to them about this, they were trying to find something for him, to enable his going to the U.K. as well. So the expectations rise. I have a job now, a good one, a full-time contract, with a decent pay and benefits, enough to allow me to dream of soon being able to have my own place, maybe even get married, who knows. Not much preparation needed for this trip. Just pack a suitcase for the 1st month or so (they would provide us with accommodation for that period and help us find a place to stay afterwards), some minor details to attend to here, book the flight and that would be it. Planned Date of Departure: 16th January 2009.
On the weekend of the 10th-11th January the 1st symptoms appeared... That terrifying fear, the sweaty palms, the sleep deprivation, heart racing, the not so eloquent speech. I'm no master of disguise and it was written all over my face. Mom read it instantly...
Go(ne)!... So by now I'm just feeling numb. I knew already what all this meant and it would be just a matter of time until the words would come out of my mouth, as they eventually did..."I'm not going..." I weighed all the pros and cons, as smart people usually do. The pros won, but they lost to me... Funny, or not really, but still odd, how even in the face of good fortune and promise of an eventual state of happiness, we, humans, or me, Andreia, manage to knock it all down like a frail castle of cards... And so I informed, as demanded, the ones close to me first. My mom didn’t need to be informed, her radar was and is working quite well when it comes to me. If you accustom people to something about yourself long enough, that's what they'll come to expect from you, in my case it was failure, even if she had hoped and was believing in the possibility of me proving her wrong...I did not. I told my boyfriend, who was divided between the sadness of seeing me lose yet again a good opportunity, and the happiness of seeing me stay close to him (also due to trust issues between us, cause I've stepped on him, without planning to do so, but still did, and regret it till this day, and till I'll die). Then my friends, the one who I was going with, and my best friend. Both shared the same opinion: "you're making a mistake, but ultimately, it's your call". Diplomacy... good at times, not so good when you're about to break down. But I don't blame them cause almost like my mom, they know who they're dealing with.
And finally, my future employers. "Dear... I regret to inform you...". Got a very polite and warm answer actually. But what could they do? I laid down the cards and told it as it was, how I felt, and how my strength is null, etc. Not much else to say about it.
So this time, I managed to fail without even trying. Takes talent huh?
It's January 19th, and I'm writing from my own bedroom, in my city, in my country, with no prospects, back at square one, or minus one...
My name is Andreia, you can look me up in the dictionary next to the word "failure"
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