I put one foot in front of the other one*

[bending_sickle]

At the moment I am trying to face down the world like Loki in my icon because goddamnit someone's going to kneel and it's not going to be me.

Basically yesterday was shite. There was a lot of crying involved**. This, because there was a lot of my mother saying not-even-vaguely threatening things like, "Your time here is coming to an end," and "It's August, what are you doing here?" and "No, I will not stop making vaguely threatening and horrible remarks at you." Well that last one is a bit paraphrased but you get the idea. I am not welcome in the house and, to hear her say it, never was, even though it was dad's idea first that I come back to be unemployed under their roof and she, after opposing it at first for my sake (ha! irony!), was all for it (mainly because it was that or I went homeless) and they did say I'd always be welcome at home and it's my home and all that jazz. But now she's telling me that dad can't stand me and that she's lording some nebulous deadline of residence over my head.

This while never once asking me how the job hunt is going or, well, anything about me. I mean, I could be dying here of anxiety and depression (undiagnosed*** and yes, I know, I shouldn't use the word unless it's official but the fact is I am not okay) or spending my days sending out CVs (I'm not, and least not anymore, because I just can't, but she doesn't know), and she'll just think I'm being a lazy ass not doing anything because I love living with my parents and not having to worry about anything.

I'll give you a moment to laugh hysterically along with me.

Just pulling myself together enough to go through the day is hard enough, but they just make it that much harder, so going the extra mile and looking through hundreds of jobs I am not qualified for is like trying to scale a sheer wall with broken fingers. Not going to happen.

So here's the thing. Considering my abysmal track record of "time spent employed" vs. "time spent unemployed", I can't count on my getting a job that'll whisk me away anytime soon. So I'm going to do it the other way around. Which means I'm going to try and move someplace first, then find a job - any job - and revel in my not-living-with-my-parents-ness situation. I might have a complete mental collapse in between these two steps but let's try anyway.

I'm aiming for the UK or Ireland because English language I love you. I mean, it's not like I could work at McDonalds in Germany. (France, maybe.) If I manage to get a proper job and it happens to be in France or Germany or some other such country before this Operation Escape the Nest happens, I'll be jumping for joy, but if I'm going to be desperately knocking on windows asking if I can mop the floors or bake their muffins, maybe adding a language barrier - no matter how low - might not be a good idea.

Whatever, those isles. The question then becomes, "where, exactly?" That's what I'm going to be working out now. I don't even want to think about the packing, the temporary residence, the looking-for-a-residence, the job hunt, the monies, just yet, because I can hear the wires in the bridge of my sanity straining.

So yeah. Any suggestions of cities I could move to and not die in?


* "One Foot", Fun.
** All the snuggles to seschat who held my hand (through the internet) while I sobbed on her shoulder (through the internet).
***If a tree is depressed in the forest and no one is there to diagnose it, is it still depressed?

Comments

[seschat.livejournal.com]

*snuggles you forever* My darling!

*cheers you on madly*

[bending-sickle.livejournal.com]

<5

[chaosvizier.livejournal.com]

I hope it all works out for you, dear Sickle. Alas, I can only advise you if you make the big jump across the pond to America, Land of Opportunity... but to be fair, we do speak English over here. ;-)

Also, hurr hurr, baking muffins. It just sounds naughty. "You can bake my muffins any day, hurr hurr." Maybe everything just sounds naughty to me.

[bending-sickle.livejournal.com]

Yeah, thing about the USA is I can't walk up to the border and say, "Why yes! I am unemployed! Can I come it?" Pesky Visas. Meanwhile, the UK does the European Secret Handshake.

Aaaaand there's a deadline now, as the post after this explains flails.


Good thin I didn't say "I'll knead your bread" because that sure sounds dirty ;)