I spent much of yesterday evening working on two application forms for jobs in the social services working in support/therapy for people with learning difficulties and mental health problems. The more I looked at the person specification the more I realised there was not a chance in hell that I would get either job, or even be interviewed. I don’t really know why I continued to apply, and why I posted the application forms off at all. Maybe I hate myself and I like to get rejected again and again!
I went home (I had to use my parents’ computer to do the forms) and my partner was sitting on the sofa. When I got in he picked up that I was upset straight away and quizzed me to find out why. I tried to put him off, I always do that. We went to bed, and I still felt horrible about the fact that I am a total failure and will rot in the stuffy basement of this charity forever. I have no patience and I want change now. He told me there was more to life than work. I know. I know I should be glad that I’ve even got a job, and I am. Still, there were tears and upset before bedtime. Irrational, yes.
My partner tried to reassure me that I was not a complete failure, that it didn’t matter that I didn’t get a first at uni, that I could do anything I wanted to, that I had a lot to be proud of. I know all that. But I don’t believe it. I only believe the person inside that tells me I am going to fail at everything I do.
I don’t know why stupid little things are so huge and ruin the entire world for me.