I’m Beautiful Like Me.

I’ve long felt destined for unhappiness. I don’t know that happiness is something attainable. I’d made my peace long ago that it would be fleeting. Now, I feel haunted by that very same knowledge. I’m frustrated. I’m discouraged.

When I was with xSO, I felt unhappy about most things: having to do everything alone, having been accused of things I otherwise wouldn’t have dreamed of, having to walk on eggshells, always afraid, sick with co-dependency of an addicted man, and on and on…

Now, a thousand miles and three years away, I am unhappy all the same. The sources are different: financial worries.

The paranoia has set in. I wonder if I am good enough. I wonder if some masochistic monster within seeks to sabotage so that I might find my rightful place in the world through co-dependency again.

My father is an alcoholic. Most members of my immediate family have at times indulged and battled addiction. Most haven’t made it. I grew up a passive-aggressive co-dependent. At some point along the way, I grew out of it. Now, it seems to have found it’s way back into my life after so many years with an addict. I’ve become non-confrontational. Me. If ever you’ve known me, you’d know this is quite unlike me.

So I’m working this go-nowhere job waiting tables that literally frustrates me to tears. Why, just today I cried. There are these two girls with whom I work that, since they have been there for a good while longer than I, don’t believe they need to do any actual work.

Again, I was shoved into the back corner of the restaurant where no decent, well-tipping human being would actually want to sit. We were slammed. One of the girls - one I actually like - had to leave early and instead of rearranging the seating chart to the advantage of those she’d leave behind, she totally screwed us. And the one girl (of the aforementioned two that refuse to do any actual work) is perpetually, unprovokedly nasty towards me. She made a snide comment toward me today that, had it been the me of 5-8 years ago, would’ve earned her a broken nose.

About a month ago, our restaurant brought in a new general manager. He observed us in action for about two weeks and then called a store-wide mandatory meeting on an early Sunday morning two weeks ago. He tells us we need to do a better job of covering our ink and piercings are no longer tolerated. He tells us we all need to purchase solid black shoes, they are to have no other color markings of any kind. After the meeting, I approached him. I made $60 working 20 hours that week, I’ve got rent to pay - there is no money for investing in shoes! He told me, quite flatly “You’ve got two weeks.”

Those two weeks are now up. This weeks earnings? $105. Let’s not leave out that I had to borrow $200 from my mom to cover the rent five days ago. I appreciate what he’s trying to do, but there is no money for new shoes, dammit.

Back to today. We are completely, chaotically in the weeds for hours. I kept getting double- and triple-seated; it was impossible to provide good service to any of these people. The kitchen was insane: we’re talking 30 minute check times for a half a sandwich and a bowl of soup. And my tips reflected it. I made $36 in 5 hours. One table I waited on racked up a $50 check and left me with a measly dollar. When it was all said and done, the restaurant looked as though a tornado hit.

I wanted so badly to cash out, hand over the money to the boss and walkout, cursing him and the rest of the staff all the way out the door in front of all the guests. Instead, I tuck my chin and keep working. I cleaned the tables in my section properly, I did my assigned side work and rolled the lion’s share of the silverware. And when I did finally cash out, I said nothing to the boss regarding the lopsided politics of the restaurant. I went out to my car and cried a good, hard cry.

I feel trapped, cornered.

I went through complete hell to get the Associate’s degree. Constantly fighting with the ex about just what exactly I was doing mingly with the natives on campus, staying up late to finish homework, juggling a part-time job at the campus bookstore and another part-time job waiting tables (at a GREAT restaurant where I earned better than twice what I earn now!), all while raising a little girl and playing babysitter to an addict with no sense of the real world past the buzz or the buzz he didn’t have.

I’m angry about it. All that work to push a broom and make peanuts. I apply to jobs I dare dream I might like and if I am so lucky to make it into the interview, they see my tattoos and/or piercings and decide they can take on someone else with the same credentials, the same qualifications and no ink, no piercings. And where is he (the ex, that is) in all of this? Not paying child support, that’s for sure.

Worst of all, I’m really disgusted with myself when I look in the mirror. I’m ashamed that I can’t get a decent job, guilt-ridden that it’s no one’s fault but my own. I am angry that I’m overlooked and under-appreciated at work. I’m angry that the economy is in the toilet and despite being qualified, I’m passed over for various jobs I know I would be great at. I’m pissed that I’m even considering applying at the three nearest fast food restaurants. Worse still, I strongly fear that I won’t be able to get work there, either.

When did I become this person that needed other people to validate her?