VOMIT

1 October 2015

Just got back from Augusta.

Feel just queasy and ill, nervous and fretful.

This thing, this job, this new arena, this vocational move that is the biggest that has ever happened to me keeps getting more real and it’s literally scaring the shit out of me, to the point of making me physically ill. The voices in my head are screaming at me.

And there’s no reason it should.

If the security checkers give me half a chance, and a moment to explain some of my more dubious judgment calls, I can get the Secret clearance.

That is not the thing that is killing me right now.

It’s getting more real, and the chance of something going wrong seems bigger and bigger the further this progresses. I have this feeling, nay, this two ton weight on me that is grinding me into the ground, saying that SOMETHING IS GOING TO GO WRONG. This is too big for you, too important to be given to you. This is obviously a massive mistake that they will discover any second now, and you will have wasted two weeks when you could make some real, spendable money working at Walmart or Burger King.

You are saying, “don’t worry about it, what’s done is done”, “you have no control over it, so you might as well not agonize over it”, “you having anxiety over nothing.”

First of all, I couldn’t stop worrying about things if you put a bazooka to my head and threaten to blow my brains into the next county if I didn’t stop thinking about it. Secondly, NONE of you know me, you don’t know what kind of giant fraud I am. I’m not as smart as I think I am, I can’t begin to think that I have any ability other than to screw things up, and it will become obvious to everyone that this was a big giant error, and I’ll need to move to the Yucatan and become a potato farmer since the humiliation of the rejection will be too much for me to continue living in the civilized world with you all.

I can’t begin to say what they were thinking hiring me.
What if I am the big fraud I think I am?
What if they are all just laughing at me when they find out what a giant fraud of a person I am?
What if I’m too stupid to realize how stupid I really am?
What was I thinking that I could even begin to qualify for this position?
They seem like grown-ups and I feel like a little girl.
Why am I excited? No one else is excited? Why don’t I get IT? Why does everyone else get IT? What the fuck is IT, anyway?
Why do I even think I’m reasonably able to do this job?
What if I’m lying to myself and everybody else about what I am capable of doing? Do I even know what I’m capable of doing?
How the hell are we going to survive without me getting a job? Are we going to be homeless?
(I’m not giving up my dogs, if we are homeless. I’ll be a homeless person with three giant dogs living in an Eclipse.)
Have I screwed everything up for me and Doug?
I don’t even have clothes for this. I need new clothes and I have no money. I need more underwear. My underpants are shot, so I’m going to have to buy new ones.
Am I going to have to drive the illegal car back and forth to Georgia? Will my bank let me overdraw the funds to insure and tag my piece of crap? Will we need that money for something else?
Why do I feel so sick? How come I’m not hungry? Am I stress-not-eating? Is that really a thing?

I want to vomit. I can’t. I’ve had a large coke today, and that’s it. I feel like I’m walking blindfolded through a minefield – one misstep and I’ve fucked everything up royally for me, Doug and the dogs.

I kinda, really want a beer right now.