Such a brittle, fragile thing
That masquerades as something strong,
Something solid, icy steel.
But really she can’t hold the strain,
She buckles and she bends at will,
No substance there to hold her still.
I mentioned last night that I didn’t even get an interview for the teaching job that I went to, and of course, because it’s me, it’s been playing on my mind. Mainly because I take everything personally and so I think that they didn’t want to see me because they think I’m pathetic.
The sane part of my brain always tells me that it’s ridiculous. There is no way that they were all laughing at my application in the office or that they thought that I was evil, or just plain crap. But the irrational side of brain has other ideas.
Anyway, it has been playing on my mind and even the same part of my brain can’t seem to shake the one idea that scares me. The idea that I’m just weak. I’ve had anxiety issues for my entire life and it has meant that I’ve fallen down several times, in quite a spectacular way.
I also know that I have had no career to speak of, so far. All of the other people on my course have had really impressive careers and they will look fabulous on paper. Will the girl who has only worked at the local petrol station be any kind of competition?
That is what scares me; that feeling that I’m the weakest link and there is no way to change that.
I just have to hope and pray that a school will look past my rather unimpressive CV and give me a chance. I may have been weak in the past but this is where I prove that, under pressure, anyone can grow strong.