I've lived in Boston for about five months now and I can count the number of friends I've made on zero hands. I recognize moving across country means it takes a while to make friends but the light at the end of the ever-growing tunnel: I'm not seeing it.
I've been kind of staying away from the whole blogging world for a couple of reasons. Reason number one being- I'm pretty sure my parents know about my blog and I kind of sit around and wait for the bomb to drop- that day when I get a scathing email about how selfish and deceitful and unsuccessful I am. Reason number two being- I have not found any work. True, I haven't been as aggressive on the job hunt front as I should be (my flyers I had printed out a few months ago are sitting in my cabinet next to my box of unopened business cards). But I've had interviews, I've applied to literally hundreds of childcare positions (as well as retail/interior design/random craigslist positions) and nothing. It's discouraging. I'm discouraged because I don't understand- is it my age? Is it the way I come across online or maybe in person? Did I wear the wrong things? Am I too fat? Did I wear too much makeup or maybe not enough? Do I come across awkward or bad with kids? Are my references saying bad things about me without me knowing? Maybe they're reading my blog.
So I stopped blogging. I set everything to all the "private settings" I'm aware of, I took my name out of the blog title/URL/actual blog and I just don't understand. And if they ARE reading the blog-well...I'm super discouraged about myself and the way people perceive things like sexual abuse and less than shiny backgrounds. Nowhere in my blog do I talk about me getting shit faced, or going out and somehow physically assaulting some random people, and I certainly don't post pictures of me eating babies. I enjoy working with children- I've worked with children in the past and I'd like to say that I did a great job, and I feel like I'm responsible. This whole -not getting hired- thing eats me up inside. I feel like somehow, people perceive me as a monster. Like, because I was sexually abused or because I had an alcoholic parent or because I openly express that sometimes- life is a battle: I'm just super abnormal or a handful or potentially a future abuser. It literally brings me to tears.
I'm about to come across as ignorant or like I watch too much TV but why is it that gay marriage and teen pregnancies and mega-assholes like kids from the Jersey Shore can be accepted and talked about casually but being the survivor of sexual abuse or rape is totally taboo and awkward? I don't understand why I am the one being judged- being penalized- for just happening to have been through this thing. I feel like if someone says, "My dad used to beat me and my parents are divorced," all they'll get is support and sympathy (as they should) but I feel like when you say, "My mom sexually abused me and my parents are (or are not) still together," it's a whole different story. First of all, nobody knows what to do with that. Understandable. It's a FANTASTIC thing if you can't relate! But the thing that really upsets me is that people start assuming all of these things about you- she must be making it up, or....she doesn't understand what sexual abuse actually is, or she must be really wounded and damaged and weird, or my favorite: I can't trust my children around her.
So. The job hunt continues I guess. The holidays just passed and I have to say- we have a love hate relationship. I approach Christmas like you would approach hand juicing an orange. I just try to squeeze every last ounce of Christmas-joy out of December as I can. I bake cookies, I buy the perfect tree, I make spiced cider, I light candles, I shop for the perfect gifts and the perfect wrapping paper and I cook cozy meals. Christmas doesn't love me back though because by the time Christmas Eve rolls around, I'm a wreck. I always cry. I always feel greedy and disappointed and unloved and very much so un thought of. My gifts are never wrapped nice enough, I haven't had a chance to listen to enough Christmas music, my dinner didn't turn out well enough, my boyfriend doesn't love the holiday enough, I missed the first half of A Christmas Story, my boyfriend got more gifts than me. His parents love him more than me. His parents love him more than my parents love me (....or...at all.) There are no presents under the tree from any of my family. I didn't get a single phone call, text message, or email wishing me a "merry Christmas" or maybe asking about how I am. How I'm adjusting. Whether or not I'm doing okay financially. No care package, no Christmas letter, no "I love you, Tara." I, for some idiotic reason, half expected Ethan was in on this big Christmas plan, since Christmas was so disappointing, where my brother or my sister or my dad or all three would show up- on my doorstep, presents in hand with big smiles and an even bigger "Just kidding for the past two years, and quite possibly your whole life! We love you bunches, we know exactly what your likes and dislikes are, and we're here to celebrate your favorite holiday with you in your new home with your fabulous, well chosen boyfriend! We're so proud." Did not happen. (Of course.)
I spent Christmas Eve evening crying...in bed...and went to bed alone, because I of course got into an argument with my boyfriend about how I didn't get the right things, didn't feel loved, and how much effort I spent all month trying to make everyone feel loved and how it felt as though no one really ever thinks to put that effort in for me. Christmas ( and birthdays) just hilight all that you don't have, in terms of family and friends and love. Luckily for me, my birthday comes just three days after Christmas! So it's like a big fun parade of sad. I think I spent the three days leading up to my birthday...also in tears, as well as pajamas. No magical arrival of family on my birthday, either.
The combination of being new to the area, having no money and no luck with the job hunt, not attending school, and lacking supportive (or functional) family is just far more painful than I expected (and I expected it to be fairly difficult.) It's lonely. It's isolating. It's overwhelming. And it's exhausting. I feel unsuccessful, un-likable, and angry. I want to be one of those 20 year olds who's parents help pay for school or even just offer emotional support and a phone call every now and then. Someone who believes in me and who will be there. I want to be one of those 20 year olds who has friends. I at least want to not always feel that loss- that lack of a mom and a dad and siblings-aunts and uncles-cousins. To be family-less...the feeling that there's this huge void just doesn't go away. I want something to be easy....just one thing, whatever it is.
I'm at a different stage in life than most people my age. I'm not a partier, I don't go home to see my parents and talk about my finals and annoying roommates, and I don't have people to fall back on. My idea of fun is doing something mellow and cozy, making good food, getting coffee and talking.... I just feel really old... and really young. Today, I feel homesick. But I don't know what or where I'm homesick for. I feel without roots.
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