Feeling Sorry for Myself

This is where I work.



Not too bad, right? It's in an old building, it's all antique-y, and I get a great view of the BQE (note sarcasm there).



I'm even learning how to make latte art -- see? That's my heart on a string. Har har har.

So why is it that for the past three days I've had panic attacks before hopping on my bike and going to serve coffee to people?

I am not, not, one who gets so overcome by anxiety that it becomes hard to breathe and my stomach hurts and ties itself into knots until I feel like I'm going to throw up.

I am not the type of person who starts crying uncontrollably when she thinks about her life and her job. Especially when my job, really, isn't hard. In fact, it's so slow it's agonizing.

I am usually not this type of person. The only medicine I've been on for a long period of time isn't Xanax, but a tiny purple pill to regulate my underactive thyroid. But I think I need a Xanax or three, because I think I'm going CRAZY.

What happens is this: I start to think about how much I hate my job. How alone I feel here. How a lot of the customers have cool jobs, like being a shoe designer for Steve Madden or working as a film location scout like my new buddy Hamilton, who is currently working on the new season of 30 Rock.

Then I think, why don't I have a job like that?

What the heck am I doing here? Why did I leave a great job that paid me extremely well to edit bank comments, that gave me paid holidays and vacations, that gave me outstanding health insurance benefits...why did I leave that for this?

Why did I leave Omaha for this expensive, stinky neighborhood that makes me feel incredibly lonely? Why did we leave our 2.5 bedroom, 2 bathroom, $650 a month beautiful-balconied midtown apartment for a 1.5 bedroom, tiny-ass bathroom, $1375 a month place with a view of the building next door? And why do I keep finding tiny cockroach carcasses on the floor no matter how often I clean?

Will I ever get a job I want? Will I ever work in publishing? Does book publishing even have a future, or will it be rendered obsolete in 15 years due to the rise of the iPad and Kindle? How can I build a freelance career when I have but one freelance job, an internship, and an English degree on my resume, and when a thousand other freelancers are probably applying for the same jobs I am?

Part of me wants to take classes at NYU to get a professional certificate in editing and/or publishing. But Tyler thinks they're useless and a waste of money. Is it? Would it make my resume stand out at all? I miss school and I think the classes sound interesting and relevant, but each class is about $600, and I don't have that kind of money.

I just don't want to work two or three shitty jobs just to pay rent and be able to buy food.

I miss my friends and my family and my dogs. I miss being within driving distance to Tyler's parents. I miss going out to dinner with my parents.

I miss hugging Sophie and Sammy. Sophie looks sad because she was a haggard mother of 9 squirming puppies when I took this picture. Sammy is smiling because he's the dad and couldn't have cared less about them.


Who knows if I'll even get to see Sammy again? He is almost 11 and riddled with tumors. And he has epilepsy. And arthritis.

And I miss their (not so) little son Oliver and his soft head and how he always tries to fit two tennis balls in his mouth:


These are the things I think about.

And when I start hyperventilating and sobbing and acting insane and wake Tyler up from his sleep, he is so good and holds me and waits until I stop. Then he tells me it's not my job I hate, I'm just projecting my homesickness and job frustrations onto the job I have now.

Which might be true, but this morning I woke up at 3:45 to a clenched stomach and shallow breathing as I thought, Oh God. I have to be at work in 3 hours. I have to be there until 2 in the afternoon. Oh my God, I hate it, why do I have to go?!

Then, it happened again AT work. I was on the brink of tears about 40 times. I had to sit down and tell myself to stop and breathe. Don't cry in front of anyone. Don't lose it.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!!!

I know it will pass. I hope it does. Maybe I want to go back to school so bad because then I'll feel like I'm working towards something. Maybe I'd meet a professor I got along with and he/she would say "Hey, I've got this friend who works at [insert publishing company here] and I'm sure they could use you."

Maybe.

I think life just scares me sometimes. And change. I knew everything I'd be giving up when we moved here.

I just didn't know how much it would hurt my heart.

At least I have these two:


And in the meantime I will dream about one day owning these for fall to complete the look people give me when I tell them I'm from Nebraska, which to them means corn and cows and wagons and not much else: