Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Who are you?

 

So, I haven't worked in a month.  I suppose I should feel guilty about it, but I don't.  On top of that, my temporary insurance license is about to expire on the 29th.  I had the money for it, but I spent it on clothes.  Very irresponsible I know, but I really don't care.  Ok, maybe I care a little.  I have justified my lack of work ethic as not being good at selling.  

I'm not good at selling.  I do not have that ability to talk people into things.  My feeling is, if you don't want it, fine by me.  Just go your own way and live your life.  I tried to care, I really did.  I liked talking to the people but I was not ruthless enough.  I couldn't apply the right pressure tactics to get people to buy life insurance, even if I knew they needed it.  I did sell a few policies though.  But, I got shot down, and chewed out a couple of times.  

I am starting a job in an Amazon distribution center Friday morning.  I will be working 1:20 am to 11:50 am.  I work Friday through Monday, 10 hours a day.  I haven't had a full-time job in 10 years so we'll see how this goes.  Also, with my back issues,  I'll have to wait and see if I can handle the physicality of the job.  I got some really comfy, supportive work shoes, so that might help.  Also, I still have my back braces from my surgery last year, so I will be using one of them at work.  

I am still trying to get things together to go back to school to finally get my degree is something.  At first, I was all gung-ho about biology and then medical school.  Now, however, I'm thinking of becoming a writer.  It comes easy to me, especially when manic.  I already have a few stories floating in my head.  I just need to get it down on paper.  I'll start with just an outline and work from there.  I think that's how it works.  People have told me that I have a gift for writing.  I may as well give it a shot, right? 

So, who am I?  I have no idea.  I'm a woman with a lot of hopes and dreams.  I'm desperate to have someone to love, and be loved in return.  I want success, but not at the price of my peace.  Why is that so difficult for me to find?  I'm running out of time.  

I guess I'll keep searching for myself until I find me.  I may be a doctor, a writer or something else entirely different.  Who knows?  But, I'm out there some where.  I'll just have to keep looking. In the meantime,  I'll just concentrate on the me I am today.