Guys let me tell you…I really blew that interview last night. I was confident and thought that I would nail it. I thought that I would be able to quit the job that I have TODAY. I thought I would be happy going to work every day and even dressing a little nicer. I was WRONG WRONG WRONG! I was a horrible interview.
I thought I could control my anxiety and the thoughts running through my head. I thought I could answer all the questions that the interviewer had logically and sound intelligent. This is what CPTSD can do. It can ruin your dreams of getting out from underneath a job that essentially ruined your career from the minute you walked through that door.
At first, everything I did was correct but went south for the winter quicker than the birds up north! I dressed appropriately (regretting the money I spent) and brought my laptop for presentation. She asked about my thought process behind the ads that I needed to create. Blank…yup I, at that moment, had no FUCKING clue what I thought when creating the ads. My memory loss and grasp for words decided it was time to rear her ugly head. Oh, and the poster was supposed to be digital…hmm should’ve guessed that. The Facebook ad can only have 20% text well no shit but when I was creating them I completely forgot about that. I had tunnel vision and was more focused on the task of creating than the parameters. Do you know what a Facebook pixel is? I knew the answer but stupidly replied, ‘I’m sorry what?’ ‘I would like to see some of your work do you have a portfolio. My CPTSD hit the panic button. Lights were flashing and warning buzzards were going off. I muttered that my portfolio link is included with my Indeed resume. ‘No, it’s not there. Do you have anything to show me?’ Well of course not even though I had a folder right on my desktop. ‘ I intelligently muttered, ‘Is there WiFi here?’ GUYS WHO DOES THAT?! She asked me to send her a link. I almost completely shut down.
The interview was over and she wouldn’t even shake my hand. I promptly emailed her a link to my portfolio from the parking lot using my phone. I messaged my husband and told him I didn’t get the job and then I allowed myself to have the panic/meltdown attack that I was holding in. You know the relief you get in your chest from having to hold yourself together. I was no longer awkward and the cloud of noise lifted from head once my butt hit that car seat. After I was done crying I came home and went STRAIGHT to the Indeed website to add my portfolio link. Did you know that it was there? Apparently, she didn’t either. A few minutes later as I’m applying for more jobs the place I interviewed for posted and Indeed said my resume was a match. I read the post and she added more items and I quickly learned she was wanting someone with more experience. Someone that wasn’t me.
I wanted to scream for her to give me chance to see what I’m capable of but I just scrolled past. At this point, I wish anyone would give me a chance that understands what CPTSD can do to a person. I applied for other jobs and I’ll take a Xanax before walking into the interview to quiet everything in my head. I will do my stanza study this evening. I’m contemplating on putting on pants to go to work. Happy Wednesday everyone.
I was having an OK day trying to draw a complicated black lab and duck logo for a jacket when I received a text from my husband (black lab and duck will be digitized for embroidery). I didn’t read it right away because it was normally and ‘I love you’ or ‘Miss you’. I wish I had read it when I was on my morning break. He had been walked off his job site Saturday by this guy that has been gunning for his dismissal since my husband started. I panicked. Panic is a fucking understatement! I went numb, a thousand horrible scenarios running through my head, questions that were now a serious concern. ‘How will I feed my family? How will we pay the car payment? Can we get by with the bare minimum? How and where do I find a 3rd job and time for it? How am I going to be able to continue to see my therapist or receive the medications I need? I don’t want to go back to the woman I was. The woman that caused her husband to leave and feel like he was walking on egg shells. The woman who couldn’t do anything because I couldn’t get out of bed. The woman that was easily triggered and couldn’t stand to hear my children laughing because the noise was to much. The woman that wasn’t the woman she knew she could and had to be. I cried in the bathroom, shaking, and couldn’t seem to catch my breath. My husband knew he couldn’t calm me.
adventurous and cook potatoes. I quickly took over because he wasn’t cutting them small enough for them to cook quickly and I was horrified at his knife skills.