Scrolling through Twitter I saw a glimmer of hope of finding my perfect job.
It was a few days ago I saw a vacancy at a museum I’d kill to work for, an advertisement for an admin role associated with co-ordinating volunteers. All things I can actually do listed on the job description, I was ridiculously excited. I discussed it with everyone, all telling me to go for it! I almost did.
The one thing that stops most people in achieving their dreams is usually money. The job was £16000 pro rata but with only 18.5 contracted hours, it worked out as almost a £300 pay cut. Yet again I was deflated, disappointed, dejected. All the ‘d’ words.
My Mom tried to talk me into going for it anyway and getting another job on the side. She doesn’t really know how terrifying that thought is to me. Not one interview but two when it’s hard enough to get one job, she thinks I can get a second. No. I just couldn’t believe I got so near but ended up so far away again.
I know I’d like to find a job that I’m happy with and that the money shouldn’t matter but being depressed for so long I became accustomed to having money to entertain myself when things get a little tough. Little things like filling the gas tank and driving for miles and going to buy plants for my garden, these extra things on top of buying food and paying bills that I wouldn’t be able to do if I were to earn considerably less.
I’m lost again.