Six Careers for People Who Don't Like People
Every time I read a career-suggesting article- whether it be careers for shy people, careers for introverts, careers for people who like being by themselves, you get the point- accounting is always among the suggestions. Is someone trying to tell me something?
Showing posts with label Careers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Careers. Show all posts
Monday, July 16, 2012
Monday, April 30, 2012
Random Thoughts
Well, at least I had a decent weekend for once. Friday I attempted to go see American Reunion with my sister and brother-in-law, but we ended up getting a refund for our tickets because the theater was packed. We ended up at Target instead. Saturday, I finally got my Longhorn fix, and then went to see The Five Year Engagement. Nothing terribly exciting, but better than sitting in.
It's strange, when I started this post, I had a mindful of things to discuss and now my head is completely blank of what those things were. I got distracted looking at another webpage and guess I lost it all somewhere in that time. I have been comparing health information technology programs between the two closest community colleges. It's not particularly my ideal field, but I would like to go into the healthcare field and preferably something with nonpatient contact, and HIT seems to be the best match. The community college I did attend, their program you have to be admitted in to. The other school you do not. I'd rather go with the latter, provided all of my 29 credits transfer, although 2 of those credits would have to be disregarded. My school's medical terminology course was only worth 2 credits and the other school (and pretty much any other college, should I decide to go on for a Bachelor's, which I certainly would like to, but just taking the step to get an associate's is borderline overwhelming to me) is worth 3.
I just want to pull my life back together. I was so thrilled back in 2009 when I got my job that finally, I could start stitching up bits and parts of my life. Only to have it all unravel again in August of this past year. And yeah, okay, maybe I am making a bigger deal of it than what is necessary, but it was such a long ridiculous nightmare before I got that job and I remember constantly saying I hope I never have to go through something like this again, only for it to happen all over again. Just thank god I didn't end up in the hospital again, although I don't deny that I have seriously thought of going there again. I think my experience there would be a lot different than last time because I know what to expect this time around. And like I have said before, I would not allow anyone on staff to treat me the way those assholes did when I was there.
But I don't want to talk about this anymore. It was a life experience that I would prefer to stay in the past and be forgotten, but as of now, that is not happening, because my mind is stuck on PAST and doesn't seem to want to move forward.
I still have people making comments to be about not losing any more weight, despite the fact that I have not lost any weight since last year. I have been maintaining my weight since before the wedding. And possibly even up a couple pounds since then. I have finally reached the point that I am actually happy with my weight. Do I still have days where I wish I was thinner? Of course. But it has been so many damn years since I have been happy with my weight. And naturally, something else has to go wrong. I am finally happy with my weight and I don't feel good. And I can't get an answer. And we should all know by know what I think the answer is.
And I swear, almost every week something new comes along to convince me I have it. What I think looks like nail beading was what, last week or so? My arm is still sore from when I banged my head against it, so right away I recall reading about people who were diagnosed with it having a difficult time recovering from injuries. It's always goddamn something. I've said it before, at least a hundred times, but for the love of God, I just want this fear to go away. It would just be nice to one day not have to look at my face and try to recall if it was lighter before or if that freckle or this freckle was there before, or to not have to take my blood pressure. I was actually on Google the other day researching the price of an ACTH stimulation test, because I just don't know what else to do. I don't know what else I could do to get rid of it. I am at my wit's end and I am starting to get afraid that this obsession is going to drive me mad. Mad to the point that one day I am going to decide suicide is the only way I can get away from it. And it does not help that I have a list that seems to grow almost everyday to help contribute in making that decision one day.
But somehow I have a feeling that asking for the test would be difficult. I have read many stories of people who were eventually diagnosed with Addison's and what they went through to get the diagnosis was unreal, including many being told it was in their head. The fact that so many of these people came in with very clear signs of the disease and were still being refused the test by doctors tells me I would probably have similar, if not worse, difficulties in having the test done. Nor do I particularly want to have it done unless someone truly suspects I have it. Having had subjected myself to a bone scan and being injected with radioactive stuff for no reason was enough. Being injected with a synthetic hormone freaks me out just as much, if not more.
And this neverending heartburn is starting to drive me up the wall. Medicine is not taking it away for anything. I have woken up every morning this weekend with a sore throat and hoarseness. I must have enough acid to take the paint off of an entire car.
And as if I am not upset enough about vacation, it just occured to me that I probably am not going to get any sleep. My sister has been having trouble sleeping because her husband has been snoring like the hounds of hell, and when we go on vacation, I share the double bedroom with them. I have a difficult enough time falling asleep, and if it's not quiet enough to hear a pin drop, forget it. And when I don't sleep, I am a miserable bitch. I am seriously about to just stay home.
On a less negative note, tonight's Yo Gabba Gabba was the "Art" episode. Two times in one week! To what do I owe this honor?!
It's strange, when I started this post, I had a mindful of things to discuss and now my head is completely blank of what those things were. I got distracted looking at another webpage and guess I lost it all somewhere in that time. I have been comparing health information technology programs between the two closest community colleges. It's not particularly my ideal field, but I would like to go into the healthcare field and preferably something with nonpatient contact, and HIT seems to be the best match. The community college I did attend, their program you have to be admitted in to. The other school you do not. I'd rather go with the latter, provided all of my 29 credits transfer, although 2 of those credits would have to be disregarded. My school's medical terminology course was only worth 2 credits and the other school (and pretty much any other college, should I decide to go on for a Bachelor's, which I certainly would like to, but just taking the step to get an associate's is borderline overwhelming to me) is worth 3.
I just want to pull my life back together. I was so thrilled back in 2009 when I got my job that finally, I could start stitching up bits and parts of my life. Only to have it all unravel again in August of this past year. And yeah, okay, maybe I am making a bigger deal of it than what is necessary, but it was such a long ridiculous nightmare before I got that job and I remember constantly saying I hope I never have to go through something like this again, only for it to happen all over again. Just thank god I didn't end up in the hospital again, although I don't deny that I have seriously thought of going there again. I think my experience there would be a lot different than last time because I know what to expect this time around. And like I have said before, I would not allow anyone on staff to treat me the way those assholes did when I was there.
But I don't want to talk about this anymore. It was a life experience that I would prefer to stay in the past and be forgotten, but as of now, that is not happening, because my mind is stuck on PAST and doesn't seem to want to move forward.
I still have people making comments to be about not losing any more weight, despite the fact that I have not lost any weight since last year. I have been maintaining my weight since before the wedding. And possibly even up a couple pounds since then. I have finally reached the point that I am actually happy with my weight. Do I still have days where I wish I was thinner? Of course. But it has been so many damn years since I have been happy with my weight. And naturally, something else has to go wrong. I am finally happy with my weight and I don't feel good. And I can't get an answer. And we should all know by know what I think the answer is.
And I swear, almost every week something new comes along to convince me I have it. What I think looks like nail beading was what, last week or so? My arm is still sore from when I banged my head against it, so right away I recall reading about people who were diagnosed with it having a difficult time recovering from injuries. It's always goddamn something. I've said it before, at least a hundred times, but for the love of God, I just want this fear to go away. It would just be nice to one day not have to look at my face and try to recall if it was lighter before or if that freckle or this freckle was there before, or to not have to take my blood pressure. I was actually on Google the other day researching the price of an ACTH stimulation test, because I just don't know what else to do. I don't know what else I could do to get rid of it. I am at my wit's end and I am starting to get afraid that this obsession is going to drive me mad. Mad to the point that one day I am going to decide suicide is the only way I can get away from it. And it does not help that I have a list that seems to grow almost everyday to help contribute in making that decision one day.
But somehow I have a feeling that asking for the test would be difficult. I have read many stories of people who were eventually diagnosed with Addison's and what they went through to get the diagnosis was unreal, including many being told it was in their head. The fact that so many of these people came in with very clear signs of the disease and were still being refused the test by doctors tells me I would probably have similar, if not worse, difficulties in having the test done. Nor do I particularly want to have it done unless someone truly suspects I have it. Having had subjected myself to a bone scan and being injected with radioactive stuff for no reason was enough. Being injected with a synthetic hormone freaks me out just as much, if not more.
And this neverending heartburn is starting to drive me up the wall. Medicine is not taking it away for anything. I have woken up every morning this weekend with a sore throat and hoarseness. I must have enough acid to take the paint off of an entire car.
And as if I am not upset enough about vacation, it just occured to me that I probably am not going to get any sleep. My sister has been having trouble sleeping because her husband has been snoring like the hounds of hell, and when we go on vacation, I share the double bedroom with them. I have a difficult enough time falling asleep, and if it's not quiet enough to hear a pin drop, forget it. And when I don't sleep, I am a miserable bitch. I am seriously about to just stay home.
On a less negative note, tonight's Yo Gabba Gabba was the "Art" episode. Two times in one week! To what do I owe this honor?!
Friday, November 14, 2008
Vent.....
I make attempts whenever I start a blog to not spiral down into negativity too much, but something always ends up leading to it. Having PMS is not particularly helpful.
In addition to that, the weather has not exactly been wonderful. It's been cold and raining and it's making me miserable. I am tired beyond belief, despite the fact that I sleep over 8 hours. I don't want to be around anyone. Every time somone talks to me, I want to scream at them to leave me the hell alone. I don't want to be nasty and I certainly don't enjoy it.
My mother does nothing but give the guilt trip and it infuriates me. I can't figure out if it infuriates me because of what she does or that I allow it to make me feel guilty. She complains that she is always alone, so I go out and watch TV with her and then all she does is talk my ear off why I am trying to listen to something or complains about what I am watching. I don't know how many times I have made it clear to hear to her that I don't want to her about the Casey Anthony story and yet she STILL insists on talking about it.
I am miserable because I am sick of being out of work, but I am terrified to go back. I am sick of being turned down for jobs. Even Target won't hire me. I have four years of retail experience and instead, they hire snot-nosed teenagers with their entire faces pierced over me. All because I couldn't answer the questions in their absurd interview. It's a sales associate position, not a job on fucking Wall Street. A monkey could do the job. I am a damn good worker and I am not just saying that. People who have worked with me can vouch for it. Shit, I worked at KB Toys a few years ago and most of the employees were men and I could get stock out and priced at a faster rate than if all of them worked together doing the same job.
I don't know what to do with my life. I have panic attacks at the thought of going back to school, but I want a career. Part of the reason is I am lazy and the other part is I don't mind working for a career; I just don't want to spend so much time doing it. I want to work my ass off as quick as possible and get it as quick as possible. I don't quite understand how someone can be so smart and yet not be college material. I truly believe I am not college material.
The other night I was lying in bed and I thought back to 2006 and I thought of the first night I was in the hospital and my chest tightened and I started to hyperventilate. Is it possible to have post-traumatic stress disorder from staying in a psychiatric facility? I wouldn't initially think so, but I do believe there is something. It seems like a ridiculous thing to be traumatized, but you would have to know how I was raised to understand why I would be so traumatized by this. I hear certain songs or am in certain situations or see a particular show on that I watched at the time and get sick to my stomach. I just want to take October 2005 to the present and erase it completely from my mind. I will never be able to fully recover until I can finally put this behind me.
The way they treat you in these facilities is degrading. To have to sit there and be talked down to like you are fucking 5 years-old or mentally retarded when you probably have a higher IQ than all of the mental health techs put together is extremely demeaning. To have to go into a room with someone you don't even know and strip down to your underwear is demeaning. Yes, I understand a suicidal patient could sneak in a weapon, but my "suicidal weapon" was carbon monoxide poisoning by stuffing the pipe of my car. Is a car something you can sneak into a psychiatric facility? Where would I put it? In my fucking vagina?
Psychiatric workers often talk of the dangers of working in a psychiatric facility. I saw fights brew between patients and workers and do you know why the patient went after the worker? The worker kept on provoking the patient. There was one patient who had manic depression with violent tendencies that was constantly provoked by one of the mental health technicians. Why on God's good earth would you provoke someone with a severe mental illness, especially a patient with a history of acting violently? Are you stupid or something?
A cousin of mine has been missing for the past few days and was found dead yesterday, by suicide. He attempted suicide about 2 months ago and I guess he was not one of those lucky ones who attempts it and realizes what they have in life. And as usual, the bullshit always starts up about how "selfish" he was and what in life could have been so bad that he had to end his life.
People do not understand a suicidal mind. It's something that could never be understood until it's actually experienced. It's a horrible feeling to feel like your mind is stuck in a big black pit of tar of hopelessness and to be consumed with thoughts of wanting to be dead and that you just can't deal with life anymore and you feel so low and insignificant and that you'll never be good enough for anyone or anything and that all you want out of life is one goddamn thing and it is never going to come to you and that you are too much of a problem for everyone in your life and that they would be better off without you there because you generally just cause everyone heartache with your actions anyway. It's even worse when, other than the explanation that you have been diagnosed with depression....you just don't why you feel so horrible.
Frankly, I hate both, but when it comes to choosing between the periods of absolute lowness and the periods of constant, unrelenting anger, I prefer the latter. At least that gives me some drive and doesn't leave me lying in my bed and unable to get up.
In addition to that, the weather has not exactly been wonderful. It's been cold and raining and it's making me miserable. I am tired beyond belief, despite the fact that I sleep over 8 hours. I don't want to be around anyone. Every time somone talks to me, I want to scream at them to leave me the hell alone. I don't want to be nasty and I certainly don't enjoy it.
My mother does nothing but give the guilt trip and it infuriates me. I can't figure out if it infuriates me because of what she does or that I allow it to make me feel guilty. She complains that she is always alone, so I go out and watch TV with her and then all she does is talk my ear off why I am trying to listen to something or complains about what I am watching. I don't know how many times I have made it clear to hear to her that I don't want to her about the Casey Anthony story and yet she STILL insists on talking about it.
I am miserable because I am sick of being out of work, but I am terrified to go back. I am sick of being turned down for jobs. Even Target won't hire me. I have four years of retail experience and instead, they hire snot-nosed teenagers with their entire faces pierced over me. All because I couldn't answer the questions in their absurd interview. It's a sales associate position, not a job on fucking Wall Street. A monkey could do the job. I am a damn good worker and I am not just saying that. People who have worked with me can vouch for it. Shit, I worked at KB Toys a few years ago and most of the employees were men and I could get stock out and priced at a faster rate than if all of them worked together doing the same job.
I don't know what to do with my life. I have panic attacks at the thought of going back to school, but I want a career. Part of the reason is I am lazy and the other part is I don't mind working for a career; I just don't want to spend so much time doing it. I want to work my ass off as quick as possible and get it as quick as possible. I don't quite understand how someone can be so smart and yet not be college material. I truly believe I am not college material.
The other night I was lying in bed and I thought back to 2006 and I thought of the first night I was in the hospital and my chest tightened and I started to hyperventilate. Is it possible to have post-traumatic stress disorder from staying in a psychiatric facility? I wouldn't initially think so, but I do believe there is something. It seems like a ridiculous thing to be traumatized, but you would have to know how I was raised to understand why I would be so traumatized by this. I hear certain songs or am in certain situations or see a particular show on that I watched at the time and get sick to my stomach. I just want to take October 2005 to the present and erase it completely from my mind. I will never be able to fully recover until I can finally put this behind me.
The way they treat you in these facilities is degrading. To have to sit there and be talked down to like you are fucking 5 years-old or mentally retarded when you probably have a higher IQ than all of the mental health techs put together is extremely demeaning. To have to go into a room with someone you don't even know and strip down to your underwear is demeaning. Yes, I understand a suicidal patient could sneak in a weapon, but my "suicidal weapon" was carbon monoxide poisoning by stuffing the pipe of my car. Is a car something you can sneak into a psychiatric facility? Where would I put it? In my fucking vagina?
Psychiatric workers often talk of the dangers of working in a psychiatric facility. I saw fights brew between patients and workers and do you know why the patient went after the worker? The worker kept on provoking the patient. There was one patient who had manic depression with violent tendencies that was constantly provoked by one of the mental health technicians. Why on God's good earth would you provoke someone with a severe mental illness, especially a patient with a history of acting violently? Are you stupid or something?
A cousin of mine has been missing for the past few days and was found dead yesterday, by suicide. He attempted suicide about 2 months ago and I guess he was not one of those lucky ones who attempts it and realizes what they have in life. And as usual, the bullshit always starts up about how "selfish" he was and what in life could have been so bad that he had to end his life.
People do not understand a suicidal mind. It's something that could never be understood until it's actually experienced. It's a horrible feeling to feel like your mind is stuck in a big black pit of tar of hopelessness and to be consumed with thoughts of wanting to be dead and that you just can't deal with life anymore and you feel so low and insignificant and that you'll never be good enough for anyone or anything and that all you want out of life is one goddamn thing and it is never going to come to you and that you are too much of a problem for everyone in your life and that they would be better off without you there because you generally just cause everyone heartache with your actions anyway. It's even worse when, other than the explanation that you have been diagnosed with depression....you just don't why you feel so horrible.
Frankly, I hate both, but when it comes to choosing between the periods of absolute lowness and the periods of constant, unrelenting anger, I prefer the latter. At least that gives me some drive and doesn't leave me lying in my bed and unable to get up.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Six Years Later
A little over six years ago, one of the greatest days of my life occured- high school graduation. I sat on the field in a hot black robe in hot June weather and between listening to each girl sitting beside me talking on their cellphones- to each other, nevertheless- I would look around and think, God, I am so glad I never have to see many of these people again. I am finally getting to go to college where I can get a good paying career and just forget about all of the shit I had to deal with with everyone. I was ready to move on and move up.
Who would have thought that six years later, I would be sitting here, with no job and still no idea what to major in in college? I just have no clue what to do and I refuse to just go to school for any degree. It's one thing for your path in life to go a bit off course, but mine has gotten completely lost, crashed, and blown up.
When I first left high school, my career choices were either civil engineering or radiologic technology. I gave up on civil engineering because I didn't think I was smart enough. I have been off and on with radiologic technology, but in the end it always comes down to the same problem- I want the job security and the pay of an RT, but I do not want the actual job. I don't know what my deal is, but I just have a severe phobia of touching people. It makes me very uncomfortable and uneasy. I can barely hug family and friends; how on earth can I ever do a job where I have to touch people for a living? Strange people nevertheless?
Who would have thought that six years later, I would be sitting here, with no job and still no idea what to major in in college? I just have no clue what to do and I refuse to just go to school for any degree. It's one thing for your path in life to go a bit off course, but mine has gotten completely lost, crashed, and blown up.
When I first left high school, my career choices were either civil engineering or radiologic technology. I gave up on civil engineering because I didn't think I was smart enough. I have been off and on with radiologic technology, but in the end it always comes down to the same problem- I want the job security and the pay of an RT, but I do not want the actual job. I don't know what my deal is, but I just have a severe phobia of touching people. It makes me very uncomfortable and uneasy. I can barely hug family and friends; how on earth can I ever do a job where I have to touch people for a living? Strange people nevertheless?
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