Working

I'm looking for a job yet again, the fourth this year. That brings out baaaaaaad traits in me, because I am now opperating out of a place of depseration, and I feel terrible making any choices when I'm this frightened about my future. After talking to an agent at a temp agency this morning and hearing how bleak my prospects are, I've spent most of the day in bed and wrapped up in pounds of blankets. (This is also after a poor night of sleep, and drizzly weather for the last three days.)

Money and I have a bad relationship. At no point in my adult life have I ever been capable of making all my ends meet longer than 6 or 7 months. I do not live extravagantly by any means; I've had one job that paid my enough to be above the poverty line, but I was in bad shape while I had that job; all this means I'm nearly 30 and haven't been able to live in my own place, and have spent about 28 years living with my mom, which has not been good for either of us. I like work, but by this point in my life, I would have hoped to have been working towards what I really want, and not working to stay alive.

I actually have to stop writing now because I'm triggering a panic attack. Short entry, I know, but the longer I look at what I've written, the more I feel like I want to completely give up.