Pity party at my house! All invited

Subtitle: Fuck everything

I have shittons of hard work to keep my life from sliding into the dumpster. But it's hard to get out of bed many days. I know objectively my situation isn't that bad. I just don't know if I can conquer my biggest obstacle before she ruins my life. (My therapist fired me this week, that's how it's going lately, as usual the problem is me).

I am my big obstacle. Life won't be the same again but it could be a different kind of good (a job instead of a career but maybe a fullfilling sexful relationship instead of a SM). But I'm fucking unemployed and effectively single (haven't cut the final cord, losing a job, moving and separating is enough trauma for a year). When your self esteem is in the toilet how the hell do you get a job or have a relationship that results in more than being used for sex. I need a job (! first and foremost) and I need a relationship to prove to myself I am not damaged goods.

But depression makes it hard to get out of bed. It whispers to me it's pointless to get a job, it probably won't fully cover the bills (at first, until I can move up) and I'll find myself job huntig again in 5-8 years (fuck this short-sighted, outsource everything, bring in foreign workers on H1B's for alleged skills shortages (lies, there is in fact a surplus), screw everyone but the 0.05% economy) when age discrimination will only make it harder. I'll take some job for shitty pay and shortly thereafter be assigned the work of 2 people (certainly not the pay of 2, you can be asked to do 2 jobs or assigned to be an acting boss while yours is out on medical leave but you'll never get the pay that should go with the extra responsibility and stress. The punishment for good work is having work piled on until you break, like a medieval torture. [these scenarios are from experience and they never end in so much as a thank you, so excuae me if I'm completely disillusioned, I did everythjng right, I played by the rules I got screwed ( as did many many other colleagues). I used to want to excel, now I only want to survive.

Clearly I just have to suck it up. My bootstraps friend would remind me of people who can't walk who would love to get out of bed. I would like to remind Ms Bootstraps that while I wouldn't like to be physically unable to get out of bed of course, I would like my fucking brain to stop making everything except lying between cool white sheets in a silent room feel like climbing mount everest while being pricked with needles.