I have been absent.
I feel as if I said that last time. Did I? I can’t remember anything.
These past few days have been trying. They’ve been tough and I’ve been struggling, and the more I reach out for help it seems the more people recoil. I enjoy their enthusiasm and their hope for me, I’m sure I absolutely deserve it. I mean, I’m never anyone’s shoulder to cry on or anyone’s personal confidant, ever.
If you couldn’t tell, that’s sarcasm.
With work picking up, it becomes apparent how important this position is to the people I work with and how important perfectionism is to this department. You can’t afford to make a mistake when you and your partner are stomping your away across the street with twenty thousand dollars between the two of you.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have picked a department that plays off of one my greatest weakness that also happens to be one of my greatest strengths. I’ve hated my perfectionism and my sensitivity to criticism ever since I realized the toll it takes on your mental health. Having to be right all the time is a lot of pressure on yourself. A pressure you create that you ultimately find yourself blaming others for. How covertly conceited.
At any rate, the friend I got hired made a mistake and pulled an extra hundred from one of the machines my department manages. They had to do a lot of editing and balancing to get everything back to normal. I was the last new employee not to make a mistake yet.
I didn’t hold onto that title for too long.
The first night I was on my own without a trainer over my shoulder, I took every precaution. I read my notes as I processed bills and coin and paper work. If I was 99.99999 percent sure of something, I didn’t take a chance and asked one of the leads/managers to help me. As much as that takes a toll on my social anxiety disorder, the thought of making a major mistake and the toll that would have on 1) my self esteem and 2) my perfectonistic self-loathing scared me much worse.
At the end of the night I left feeling generally pleased with myself. One goal I had for myself in getting this job was developing a sense of independence and demolishing my dependent nature and after that night, it seemed as if things were going just the way I planned.
Honestly, I should have just stepped in front of a car at that thought. Does anything ever go as anyone plans? Thinking that way is just a recipe for disaster, let’s be honest here people. The moment you blurt words like that to the universe is the moment Murphy’s law is stapled to your back.
I already haven’t been feeling my greatest. My depression is settling in the more dissatisfied I am with school and the direction my life is heading. So when I heard I made a major mistake that one night, the only night I felt decent about myself, I fell into a pit. And I’ve been here for a few days now.
The mistake? A computer error. I processed ONE DIME, TEN CENTS, and the fucking computer I was using printed it on three other receipts, receipts that I didn’t process any coin on at all, and my dumbass check marked the ten cents as if it were 0.00.
You’re supposed to see 0.00 when you don’t process coin. Somehow 0.10 got past my vision. It backed up morning shift three hours. They need to have everything balanced by 7 a.m (an hour after they clock in) and my mistake cost them a lot of hours and caused a lot of headaches. My director was not pleased and so far two of the morning shift people will not speak to me or even look at me.
For the remainder of my first day back after my mistake, the director also avoided eye contact with me. I thought it all a little childish. He speaks with me now but my trainer warned me the more mistakes I make, the more he dislikes you.
Well for fucks sake, excuse my fucking humanity.
As I said, my depression was already creeping up on me and it hit me hard after I realized I was suddenly the most hated new employee of the cash room. For a computer error.
I had no problem admitting that I should have caught the mistake. But my trainer stuck up for me: she never told them I was cleared to process things on my own, someone should have been watching me. And it wasn’t technically my fault; I expected to see 0.00 so that was what I saw, even when the numbers read 0.10. I understand I should have caught it. But their computer system shouldn’t be that shitty.
The last few days I’ve been drifting into blissful suicidal fantasies. I’m not someone who is hell bent on having a good job or any of that. I enjoy thinking and being by myself and I hate being pressured into positions I’m not comfortable with, into drama, into all that petty bullshit they should have left behind in elementary school. I miss the days I could write for hours or take my camera for a walk. Now I don’t have the energy for any of it.
I’m just not happy.
I struggle with finding happiness ever, really. I am positive, I always try to direct myself in that direction for other people’s sake, not mine. It never helps me. But it seems to help others to see someone stronger and more positive than they are. I envy them greatly.
Even if I sat in a customized studio fit to write for days on end, I wouldn’t find happiness. It’s unattainable for me. The only time I feel an ounce of happiness is when I’m with my boyfriend. But even then there are times the dullness creeps in and I find myself fighting hard to not ruin his day.
But inside I’m dull, blank, empty.
And as a seasoned self-harmer, that usually means it’s time to burn something or cut something. I don’t do it often anymore, but when I do the marks are rather large and severe and I cover them with sleeves or pants or shirts or whatever.
Today, while putting on a backpack to get ready to take some cash to the upper levels, my sleeve got hoisted up by a backpack sleeve (despite my careful efforts to never let any outsiders find out the truth about me) and one of the shift leads saw. I know he saw because I spun around, absolutely mortified, and found him staring directly at me. I gave him the look I rarely give people: tell someone and I fucking murder you.
He looked down instantly. I took my belongings and left as swiftly as possible. I’ve never been caught in such a way. In fact, I started panicking. I blanked out for a few minutes and the only thing I remember is sitting back in the cash office whispering to myself. That’s when happens when I get frustrated: thoughts flood my brain and the only way I feel I can stop them is by telling myself to shut the fuck up out loud. It has to be out loud. Obviously that’s not acceptable in a work environment, so I whisper it or breathe in loud or clench my teeth and twitch my head to the right and roll my eyes.
Don’t ask how, but it all helps.
This particular lead shift is a snitch. My trainer says so. Anything you say he passes on to the director, so you’ve always got to be careful around him. Whether or not he told the other shift leads and director, I don’t know yet. But I’m sure he will. What will happen then? Stigma, stigma, and more stigma.
I’m intelligent. I learn quickly. But I’ve never been happy or satisfied and if I am, it’s artificial, short lived, and abrupt. Then it’s gone and I’m left to this black abyss.