scrubjayspeaks

It's July 1st, and I am officially on the hunt for a job! My """"rest"""" period of caring for Mum must end, and I must convince some mad bastard that they want to pay me to do things. I am not picky about the things, honestly. My open tabs for jobs to apply to run from technical manufacturing to retail, which basically covers the gamut of opportunities in my area. (There are not a lot of opportunities here, I regret to inform you.)

The nice thing is that, after my last job, I have hilariously low standards. If you pay me, and I am not actively abused by anyone else in the workplace in ways that cause actual physical damage (mental damage will, honestly, not be enough of a deterrent), I will probably agree to do your shitty job. I'm easy that way.

On the other hand, my medication is currently causing me to have anywhere from one to three panic attacks a day, with triggers selected by random lottery! I've had two this morning, because apparently news reports about international politics and blog posts about another writer's wip are now valid reasons to have panic attacks.

???

I so genuinely despise what my life has become, it's starting to be an actual problem.