We moved to Columbus in April and I really love this city. Click right here and you can read about all the wonderful things this area has to offer.
And yet, if I let myself dwell on the negative — and depression encourages that mental activity — I would be convinced this city doesn’t love me back.
Finding suitable employment has been an issue. I took a temp accounting job in a factory that was OK, but the environment wasn’t pleasant and the commute sucked.
Working at that job, with people who barely spoke to me and a boss that gave almost no positive feedback, made me miss my loving, supportive work family at Saint Francis Service Dogs in Roanoke so much my soul ached.
Today I got a call from a staffing agency for an accounting job in a factory that would include a monthly inventory and thus would require wearing a steel-toed boots and a uniform.
Since I swore off uniforms when I left the fast-food industry as a teenager in the 80s and steel-toed boots don’t look cute on anyone, I declined the interview. I’ve learned accepting just any job is not the answer. It has to be the right job.
I’m a household manager/freelance writer for now — the perks are great and the working environment is outstanding — but being a stay-at-home mom to three lazy dogs and one surly cat who has to be medicated twice a day is a little lonely, and then there’s the money.
That would be the lack of money, to be exact. Shopping, after all, is part of my cardio routine.
The traffic accident in June hasn’t helped. My car is still in the shop and I know it sounds materialistic and superficial but I miss my car.
The injury from the accident has been super ouchy and inconvenient to say the least. I have an appointment today to see the wound care specialist, who re-injures my leg every time I go there.
I know it’s necessary for the healing process, but it feels counterintuitive to see a wound doctor who willfully wounds you. Maybe he takes the job title too literally?
I miss my friends. We’ve had an active social life since we’ve been here, but my close pals are in Indy, Nashville and Roanoke. I keep hoping that the right job will come along and I will find a Buckeye BFF.
Then there’s the weight gain, mostly due to emotional eating and too many hours spent on “House Hunters” marathons while my leg healed. Hopefully exercise and healthy food choices will make the endorphins in my brain kick in and tell the depression to STFU.
Progress is being made in that challenge. I took Body Pump class last night and I could actually move today AND I passed all four phases of my insurance health screening this morning.
I might have missed the BMI phase due to the weight gain but my waist circumference saved me. Click here for the best shapewear in America that whittled about an inch off my middle section. Holla!
My husband and I are participating in a 5K charity walk this Saturday. It’s a cause we support and it gets both of us moving, with a chance to meet other people who love pets as much as we do.
I feel like I’ve been struggling since the move — with emotions, injury and frustration. Honestly, I’ve spent most of my 50 years on this earth struggling to hold it together. I’m battle weary.
Then I heard an old Simon and Garfunkel song on the radio this morning and it reminded me that, as much as I’d like to run away, I can’t throw in the towel.
“In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade and he carries the reminders of every glove that’s laid him down and cut him ’til he cried out in his anger and his shame, ‘I am leaving, I am leaving.’ But the fighter still remains.”
There’s still a lot of fight left in this tired boxer.
And Columbus? I’m not going anywhere. I think once you get to know me, we’ll get along just fine.