Dissecting Unhappiness

Dear John,

 

It's 60, the windows are open, the dog is sleeping off our walk, and both cats are in the windowsill. The weather is a hit. (sorry about the papers on the floor - it's tax season)

 

I've been thinking about this thing of being unhappy. It seems to me that it's important to admit it and allow myself to feel it. If I didn't, I would be shoulding myself. I've gone through these two years refusing to do that, and I can't start now. There are things in life that I'm happy about, but the sum total at this moment is unhappy. In the past, there have been things that I was unhappy about, but the sum total was always happy. That has changed - this is another first, and it has to be faced and dealt with. Denial is much worse than unhappiness.

 

It got a little worse today. I got an email from the state Department of Education that Fairfield school system had refused me as a sub. It's probably because they don't have my transcripts yet - these things have a long processing time. Nobody told me that I had to have them in before doing the state application, but I'm guessing that is the problem. I'll go by and talk to them tomorrow. If I'm right (and I can't imaging any other reason to be turned down - my background check is deadly boring), then I'll have to pay the state processing fee a second time. I already have over $100 invested in this process. It wasn't this complicated when we first started subbing, was it?

 

I know that part of my unhappiness is job-related. I'm desperate for a job that pays enough to live on, has benefits, and has a reasonable expectation of a minimum number of hours to work each pay period. I'm up against ageism. I have a BSN and 20 years experience in cardiac critical care, but I'm 58. And, as I've said, finding any job at my age requires an act of God. Matt has expressed interest in hiring me, but I'd rather not have a 45-minute drive to work, and it would pay minimum wage. I'd like to stay in my own career, but there's a glut of nurses in this area, and I'm still 58.

 

Things are a bit challenging right now. You're not completely responsible for my unhappiness - there are plenty of other factors - except that all of this could have been avoided if you'd remembered to take me with you. But I know that you've always wanted to know what I was thinking and feeling, so here it is. It's not very pretty. But neither am I, and you've always loved me anyway. And I need you to pray for me, so you have to know what's going on. You probably do whether I tell you or not - maybe telling you is really so I can work things out in my own head. I always understand myself better after I explain me to you.

 

Thank you for helping me make sense of myself. Thank you for listening so patiently when I babble. Thank you for accepting me and whatever I'm feeling, even when neither is pretty. Please pray for me. My faith muscles are tired and sore, but they probably can benchpress a Buick.

 

Love you for listening,

Joan.