I was wailing last night about how "nobody will hire me, I'll never get a job!" Sunshine had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at me. He gently reminded me that it has only been two weeks, after all.
I live in the western society that is built on instant gratification. We Americans want what we want when we want it, damnit, and we want it right. the. fuck. now. I mean, we have an astounding number of ways to go about getting what we want at all hours of the day and night. All stores are becoming WalMart.
So there I was, wailing away, mourning my unemployability, sniffling and slinging snot, smearing my mascara all over the magic bus.
Sunshine did point out to me that I am just having a human experience. It is human nature to want what we want at the exact moment we decide to want it. He reminded me that I am also the product of my disease. How many years did I continue to get exactly what I wanted, when I wanted it? He also reminded me where that got me.
I have absolutely no patience, y'all. I want a job right now, yo. I also want new shoes and a new pair of pants that aren't bullshit and a beautiful new blouse and
I need to get my ass to the dentist because I am overdue for a cleaning and I could use a haircut and
we need to put some kind of roof structure over the magic bus and we want to get rid of this nasty ass carpet in here and put in some hardwood floors
and our puppy has a birthday coming up and Christmas is coming and how in the hell am I going to buy presents for this shit without a job because I have to buy presents
You get the idea, right?
And in the middle of all this impatience, Sunshine's program kicks in and reminds me that there is a plan, and that we are all right, and that it will happen exactly as it is supposed to.
(Whatever 'it' is.)
This is why missing meetings for a month was such a horrible thing. I am not as in touch with my recovery as I should be. It makes me grateful for Sunshine, and his calm presence in my life.
At the present moment I feel a bit like my little doggie, and not in a good way. My little doggie is much like a spoiled kid. She wants to play and she wants to play right now. She wants to eat treats and she wants them right now. She doesn't understand that mummie is washing dishes and can't play right now. She doesn't understand that I can't just give her treats all. the. time. because it isn't good for her.
My HP (higher power, for the non-12-steppers out there) knows what is best for me and maybe I just need to trust that it will happen exactly as it is supposed to happen. It will happen exactly when it is supposed to happen.
I guess that means that all there is left to do is go back to butting my head against the wall until my HP decides my head hurts enough.
So for today, I will go look for those lists (I love lists, y'all) of all the places I intend to go apply to, and get me some resumes printed up, and find that written stepwork, and watch Isaac's slow progression toward the ArkLaTex. We sure do need the rain (and I can't handle living through a repeat of last year, when all we got off of Lee was the fire-spreading dry winds.)