Damaged

23 Feb

In real life I come across as someone who has her shit together.  You, my blog sees me at my worst.  Writing is an outlet for me.  I am balanced, have boundaries, and goals, and you know–am better off then most.  But still–everyone had their problems.

As YOU know, blog, I have been having a hard time lately.  It stems from my veterinary job.  And I hesitate to even write this, because I don’t want everyone to think I would not have made a good vet.  I don’t want ANY one to think that I wasn’t ALL in and I would not have made it through school or been successful in owning my own practice.  I would have.  I would have been GREAT.  My whole life was aimed toward being a veterinarian.

But because of the circumstances, I am very disenchanted with the admissions process and the profession at large.  I wanted it more then anyone–TRUE.  A lot of people say they want to be a vet because they “love” animals.  But really, I understood the career and still wanted it.  Vet school and the profession at large would have been better for accepting me.  And just because it sounds arrogant, doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

But now that I am officially just another vet school reject–my priorities have changed.  I am not bitter toward vets.  But I am much more cynical about all the pit-falls of the career.  Work makes me stressed.  I think better regulation in the arena of veterinary work is warranted.  Their employment practices are down-right abusive.  No breaks.  No food at work.  Late or no lunch at all.  Get there early.  Stay late.  Get paid a paltry amount compared to the required skill level and experience required.  Working interviews, unpaid work.  It’s all normal in this category of work.  These things are all expected.  I know, as I’ve been employed with various vet hospitals, in different states, for the last 12 years, and involved via volunteering and observing for the last 18 (?  Jesus–that’s a lot of wasted time) years.

The point is–my job is stressing me the fuck out.  I want to control something in my life, when my job and my location is uncontrollable.  My mother-in-law–uncontrollable.  And I hate to even suggest it, because I think there are those with bigger problems.  I am not a good anorexic.  I have no will-power.  I love cheese.  And sweets.  And alcohol.  But Portia DeRossi’s book in combination with the Lose-It calorie counting website + the Wii-Fit + Cool’s need to lose weight served as a sort of trigger for me.  I am thinking about calories in-calories out constantly.  I am thinking about exercising all the time.  I know I wouldn’t qualify as having an actual eating disorder, because of the afore-mentioned lack of self-control, but I am having disordered thoughts for sure.

And, as always, I’m afraid of my alcohol intake.  I’m not even sure what to say about this.  Other then I drink every night.  And it makes me worry.  Heck, I think it’s obvious I’m drunk now, as I’m writing this.  And I’m only writing this because I was too sloppy to continue the Wii-Fit.  That makes me scared.  I need a change.  But what is it?  Move out of this city that I don’t really like?  Get a new job?  Get a new mate?  I guess it’s easier to get a new body then to answer these tough questions. . .

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