I don't wanna!

I'm starting my summer job tomorrow. And something with that just rips the heart out of my body. Ever since Mistress came home from work I've been desperately trying not to cry or lash out at her, and more or less failed at both. I need to hold it together for a little while longer, until little S is sleeping, and then I can cry as much as I want, if I still want to.

It's a lot of things. One is that Mistress finally finally finally has worked her last day at her office before Midsummer, she's working from home tomorrow and then she's taken a few days off. But it is after my job has started, and I'm very much afraid that the stress and load of beginning a new job will make me... I don't know. Unattainable? Shut down? A little crazy? As I mentioned before my way of dealing with stress is putting my head down and trudge along, shutting down non-essential (and some essential) parts of me in the process of coping. That doesn't mix well with Mistress' expectation of a nice mini-vacation. And I can't help being bitter about me being off any kind of work for three weeks, and her working her butt off during that time. When her downtime begins, my ends.

Another thing is that I'm terrified. I don't want to work. I've barely put my self back together from this semester, I'm still sick, in the meaning that I still have a low grade fever and gets very very tired several times a day, and I don't know - I just feel useless. Uncapable.

It's good that I have a job, not only because of the much-needed money it will give us, but because it will mean a reference on my CV when I apply for a real job, meaning a psychologist position, at this time next year. It's good to have something that has something to do with a psychologists proffession on there, instead of odd things like translater and substitute teacher.

But I'm afraid. I'm afraid of the pain. I'm afraid of what stress will do to my psyche. I'm afraid of failing, but even more so of the internal damage I can wreck on myself by trying to hard. I'm afraid of the exhaustion and the demands that will be put upon me. It's thirteen hour shifts. It's a completely new job. It's a job around mentally sick people. And I don't know - it just feels like I've been here before.

I wish life would give me a break sometime. A rest. I chance to get my bearings, to catch up and find my balance. But it hasn't done that this far, so I guess that wont happen. It's probably nothing wrong with my life - sometimes I'm seriously considering though if there's something wrong with me.