There I was, earlier this evening, sitting in my car, in a retail park, counting down the minutes until a dreaded job interview, trying to convince myself that I was confident, and ready. I wasn’t. I had hoped that my 2mg hit of Valium would have somehow magically transformed me and pushed me through it, but not on this occasion. Instead, I sat in my car, bawling my eyes out, constantly wiping my tears away so that I didn’t look stupid to shoppers and passers-by. Even a last-minute pep talk from my brother couldn’t convince me that I was good enough to overcome the doubt in my head, and heart.
I used to be great at interviews. It’s basically acting, and I always fancied myself as a bit of an actor, given my high-school qualification. But now, with Social Anxiety and non-existent self-esteem, it’s all different. The thought of meeting a stranger is terrifying enough, but then you have to take into account the surroundings. Being in an unfamiliar building, probably in a small room, it would feel like there was no escape. And if I had somehow made it past all that, what questions would the interviewer be asking? What would happen if my mind went blank and I couldn’t answer – my face would redden and my voice would tremble. I would be mortified, embarrassed, and would probably enter into a panic attack and storm out of the room, making a scene. All these thoughts and scenarios manifested themselves in my brain, so deep that I couldn’t dislodge them.
So, I sat in my car, and through my tear-filled eyes, I typed this blog post on my phone, while occasionally checking the clock, until the time of my interview had been and gone. Finally, relief.
But now guilt. I’ve let my family down once again. I’ve let myself down. This truly is rock bottom for me. I have nothing to offer the world, society, or anyone. I can’t see how things can change. I need some sort of miracle.
Blog Post Soundtrack: Micah P. Hinson – The Nothing.