I’m an Imposter — A Venting Session

I know it’s been years since I’ve updated. I’m going to try and be better about this, I promise. Right now, I have a few things I need to get off my chest, mostly for my sanity, so let’s just get right to it.

I work at one of the elite private universities in the U.S. I got here by the good graces of my lucky stars and Goodwill (who provided my interview suit). I was at a dead-end job, I was depressed as all hell, and I wanted to kill myself. This job probably saved my life.

And I’m throwing it away.

Like an idiot.

My PEP (Professional Evaluation something) is coming up, and I know it’s going to be shit. I’ve said it a million times that I’m lazy, and I worry now it’s going to bite me in the ass. I know this is probably my depression talking. I know that I’m probably overreacting as usual. But I can’t escape the feeling that I really fucked up this year. That I did nothing well worth my time and that I might be fired.

I guess I should explain.

So I support two people in our fundraising department. My job is pretty easy; anybody with any basic typing/common sense skills could do it. Somehow, though, when I get these projects I really hate, I kind of just want them out of the way and over with so I can go back to watching cat videos/playthroughs on the internet. I don’t have the type of job that monitors your internet usage, so I’m lucky in that regard. But I can’t escape the feeling that if I spent more time trying, I wouldn’t be so nervous about this.

I’m also worried because I’ve gotten into trouble for some really stupid shit. Like my clothes. I’m old enough to know what business casual is, but somehow I fucked that up. I wore things that I thought were kind of OK, but I got called in to a private meeting and got told what’s what. I got in trouble for that, like, twice. I’ve been in trouble for leaving five minutes early twice. I’ve had HR come up to me saying that people are complaining about my body odor. I mean, what the hell is wrong with me? What the fuck?¬†It makes me feel¬†guilty because my boss one day told me that I was a good person, that they liked me. I don’t get why.

I mean, obviously I do my job. If I didn’t, I’d have been gone long before now. I worry that if I lose this job, I’ll have to go back to another shitty one. My husband and I will lose half of our income. And it will be my fault. Those words keep playing in my head, and I know the consequences, but I just don’t do anything about it. Some part of my brain says, Well, you’re probably going to lose your job anyway, you piece of shit, so just give up. Give up.

It’s getting harder to get out of bed. When the alarm goes off, I want to call out sick and just stay in my pajamas, in bed, and sleep the day away. On the weekends, I sleep for hours and hours. I don’t count because I think I’ll just freak out at the number. Some days I think about killing myself because I’m so fucking worthless. I can’t even launch a book successfully. I’ll never be a real author with real readers who give a shit about what I do. I tell myself that every day. It depresses the fuck out of me that I think these things. It scares me, too.

I know this is just, like, a thing I need to work out. I know I really need to get my shit together. I’ve been doing this for years, though, working on this. Like, when is it going to end? When am I going to be happy? I’m on medicine and I’m scared it’s not working, and maybe I’ll never get better. It sucks. It fucking sucks.

I’m sorry this post is such a downer. I just needed to get this off my chest, unfiltered, without judgement. If you’re having a shitty day, I feel for you. I hope that you get better and you don’t end up like me.

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