Well it’s been a while but that’s only because I didn’t want to inundate my blog with whiny sounding posts about my anxiety and depression after having some sort of breakdown in June, and as it turns out, I’m still trying to recover from this now in September. I got a job though, in a petrol station. I should rejoice to finally have a permanent job and in an environment that I tend to love, but it feels a little bittersweet as just a couple of weeks ago I was having anxiety attacks rendering me a jibbering mess. I saw my doctor, we changed my meds, they didn’t work, we upped the doseage and the anxiety seems to be somewhat under control now. Somewhat. But there’s still the depression to deal with and that little voice in my head repeatedly saying, “I want to die. I want to die.” And while I don’t want to act on it, it terrifies me that it is there at all.

So with that being said, this job. We have to do shifts solo. At first glance, this shouldn’t be a problem. The other staff seem to manage. But this means obviously being there to serve customers whether they’re buying petrol or other goods, and press the button on the screen to allow the petrol pumps to reset for them. It means cleaning the toilets outside, and the forecourt, taking deliveries of petrol and other goods, putting out the papers and magazines and returning them but making sure this is registered through the picker link (pick-a-link?), cleaning, facing up, going into the stockroom at the back and stocking the shelves, checking fuel levels, temperature checks, date checks, remembering to turn on/off lights, pumps, the alarm, doing safe drops when the till gets too full, there’s more but you can imagine how much this worries me. How on earth will I manage to do all of this and be efficient on the till? There were 420 customers through on my first night. It’s not a quiet petrol station. Add to this that for some reason when I sweep and/or mop, my back hurts like a bitch and I end up slumped on the counter in a fair amount of pain and THEN have to bring in crates of fruit and veg from outside, I just.. I’m worried. I feel like a deer in the headlights right now. Oh, and of course, we don’t get breaks. So on your feet for 8 hours and have to try and squeeze in food between customers. Oy.

I don’t know how I’m going to do this without breaking down but we need the money too much and it’s not like I have other offers.. Just so unbelievably worried. And already exhausted because I haven’t done anything like this sort of work in a year, and back then there was always somebody there so you weren’t alone.