I work in a library as a circulation assistant part-time – it’s not exhausting work, and it’s quiet most of the time. Unfortunately, there is an additional screw or two loose in my brain that kicks up the difficulty level. I don’t process directions right all the time, and I feel like I make “careless” mistakes that are me simply forgetting something existed or a lack of spacial awareness. I try to bust my ass when I’m at work and constantly stay moving with whatever needs to be done so that I can sort-of make up for it. It works somewhat for me (the assistant director told me I was doing a great job yesterday), but it also beats the shit out of me physically and mentally.
It’s hard for me to do literally anything once I’m back from a 9-to-5. I try to talk to my boyfriend at night when he’s more available but several nights I’ve just passed out without realizing it and woken up again at 5am apologizing for making him worry. I don’t read, I don’t write, I don’t even watch TV. I just sit and worry and scroll through the Internet.
I get stuck in a spiral of negative thoughts about myself whenever I make a mistake or forget something, which is more my fault than the job’s, but is definitely contributing to the feelings.
And then there’s the physical symptoms. My legs feel like they’re about to give out all the time, unless I’ve been at home a while. I tried taking modafinil for focus and it made my heart pound. I accidentally lost five pounds and I was already on the border of being underweight. This evening we had so many people in because of an event and it felt like the bones in my body were physically trying to weigh me down.
I don’t really even dislike the job or the people I work with, but doing it is sucking the life out of me. I’m not sure what to do about it – it’s not I can slide back, I haven’t even reached full-time work yet, so I should be grateful and try to adapt, right? The environment’s never going to adapt to me anymore than it has already, so I have to adapt to it and just keep doing what I’m doing.
Part of me is envious every time I come in here, too, because I want to write. I want to have books in a library. I love libraries. It’s just hard to even think about that when my brain won’t even cooperate to read a book.
I don’t want to quit because they’ve done nothing wrong to me, and if I do, where am I supposed to go? I’ve just never felt this unfulfilled, burnt out and anxiety-ridden in my twenty years of life. I guess this is what being an adult is.