“You fucking idiot. Why did you even think you could possibly apply for that job? Sure, you got an interview but that was always going to be a matter of getting your hopes up before seeing them inevitably dashed. You should have seen it coming. This is just another data point on the general trajectory of your life which is, apparently, a downward trend of having all these disparate skills, interests and abilities but nothing to show for it because of your inability to turn these into something that an employer sees as useful. Let’s have a slow clap for Mr. Silk and that week where he had the silly idea that he might actually be able to do something get his work life moving.”
Well, that’s what my brain’s telling me at the moment, isn’t it? Of course it is. I wanted the job more than any I’ve applied for, and I thought my chances were good. I’m not so secure that I can stop my brain from doing that when it faces this kind of disappointment.
But it’s also bullshit. It’s the same sort of bullshit that gets me into a rut whenever I pay too much attention to it. It deserves to be acknowledged, eye-rolled at and then kicked in the face until it gets the hell out of my head.
Right now, I’m not sure of next steps, and with the ol’ brain chemistry doing all this it’s pretty hard to think of anything beyond going home and feeling sorry for myself. The sooner that goes away, the better.
Consider this an acknowledgement and an eye-roll.
