In the past 48 hours, I’ve cried enough tears for all the starving orphans in the world… and over my own stupid personal relationship drama.  Talk about being disconnected from everything around me.  Is it really the end of the world that my relationship has completed its slow spiral of death?

To me, yes.

I feel ugly and fat and unwanted… and unwantable.  I feel like I will be lonely for the rest of my life.  He was the one, I really believed and still believe.  I was meant to come to Dallas, meant to love him, meant to be in his daughter’s life.  I know I’ve spewed a lot of vitriol into this blog, but there were good times too, and as whiny and self-indulgent as it sounds, I feel like there will never be good times again.

Today’s agenda involves begging for a job so I don’t have to go back to Missouri.  Seven years of professional experience have earned me three possible favors to call in, so I’m casting my net and hoping something turns up.  One opportunity is in Chicago, one is in South Carolina, and one is right here in Ft. Worth.  None of them are guaranteed.  They are of the easy-to-offer but harder-to-deliver “if you’re ever in (insert city here) and looking for a job, give me a call” variety.

It’s not that Missouri is a bad place.  I have a wonderful friend who has offered to help me get home, and I appreciate that.  But I was crazy when I was in Missouri.  I was on a cocktail of medications (and none of them were fun medications either).  I couldn’t find a job – ANY job, not at a gas station and not at Blockbuster.  And it’s been made clear to me that if my parents help me out by letting me sleep at their house and drive their car, I will be expected to stay in that area… forever.

My heart is in Dallas.  I love it here.  I could learn to love a new city.  But I can’t learn to love Missouri.  It is Ground Zero for my own personal trauma and I don’t want to go back.  I’d like to visit because my family is there, but not to stay, and I know that if I go there now, I’ll be trapped… if not forever, then at least for years.

So today I am sending out the emails.  “Remember that time when you said to get in touch if I need a job…? Well… I do.”

This may or may not work.  I have absolutely no reason to believe it will.  But I’d be more than happy with just about any job I got from these connections — if it’s full time and has benefits, and if I will be able to afford to rent a cheap room somewhere and get back and forth to work, it will be fine for now.  It doesn’t have to be at “my level,” though that would be a nice bonus.

I’d just like to comment that — Holy Shit!! — one of my emails has already gotten a response.  I have now scheduled a conference call with Chicago for early next week.

It makes me feel a little better to at least have a hope to hold on to.  That is, until the next tear-fest.  I estimate that will be within the next six hours.