Yesterday, I mentioned I was poor. Penniless beggar I called myself.
And I am.
All attempts to get a “good job” failed. My degree was worthless. Getting an REHS license was worthless. All of it was just one big money pit.
The only jobs who will hire me are customer service. Because, as you probably know, I can talk the talk and look pretty doing it. I never truly match their standards though.
The attempts beyond those were knocked down, because my autism shows itself off due to nervousness. Then again, once they notice even though I do my work well (won’t matter what the work is), I’m not a salesperson, and I’m not neurotypical.
Like I scored rather high on the government tests. I pulled off typing requirements for a typist (more than 90 wpm). I wasn’t even going in for that test. Nothing. Never picked. I don’t interview well.
My tutoring positions were because of friends. My friend was a manager at Huntington. The moment they found out I had a math degree (well, enough math credit to say I can go for a masters), I was begged to join. They were down to two math teachers total. I gave them enough to cover all the students. Beyond that, I’ve tutored friends and family. That’s how I make my odd job money. I teach.
(I also have this wicked skill figuring things out, building them up, and finding the missing piece. It’s why I like puzzles. I can recall exactly where things were. This is all because of my autism. It’s like a superpower.)
I quit Huntington because I wasn’t getting hours. They had four male math teachers. I wasn’t needed anymore. (Did you know females can’t teach math?) I was the teacher there the longest, and I had weeks without hours. Legit zero hours on schedule.
(If you want me to offer you tutoring, I’m open to it. Zoom meetings are a thing right? Same with beta readings. I can easily be someone to talk to for anything.)
All my skills don’t matter. I can’t get a job unless I have a way to bypass the interview process.
Where does that leave me? Lost without a direction.
- I spend my energy healing. I have almost died many times now. I’m figuring out my disabilities. It would be helpful if I got a doctor involved, but… that never helped me…
- I spend my energy on Cyro. I want them to have a better life than me. I want them stepping forward and being capable as early as possible. Like publishing now would impact their life greatly.
- I spend my energy on cleaning and cooking so we are safer and healthier.
- I spend my energy writing and reading and boosting others. Because my writings will help others. I know they will. Just… need to find those people who need my work.
If you want to hire me [Contact Cat Hartliebe]. I can’t do anything in person right now, but I have a lot of skills that may be useful.
Want to show me love? Buy me some coffee.
Cup of Coffee for Cat Hartliebe
I’ve kinda given up on figuring this out. I shouldn’t. I want to feel valuable. It’s not the income, even though that does matter, it’s more I want to know I matter.
It feels as if all I’ve done is make mistakes.
I’m going to keep going. I have to. I can’t dwell on my lacking bank account or the fact I owe a fuck ton for student loans or I’m owed a fuck ton for child support.
I can’t dwell on the fact I’ve failed at every job. I was fucking good at all of them, and yet, I was never what they expected. And because of that I was cruelly treated. My attempts at a career left me with more trauma. It’s amazing.
(White males fucking suck. They’ve been the worst. They fucked me over so many times. And they never got payback. They just win. They win arguments that haven’t even begun.)
No matter where I go, I bring my blessings with me. I offer hope and chances that others never would have known. I give the window that’s hidden behind a curtain the notice it needs.
That will not change.
I just wish all my support gave me something in return.
For all my attempts, all I’ve learned is how to write a more emotional poem. I’ve learned never to give your everything to anyone or thing. Because that’s how you get hurt the most.
The problem is my heart’s too big for that. I will always offer far more than I should. I love so readily, so easily. I want to mother the world.
And I can’t. I shouldn’t try.
I need to focus on something. Give myself a direction to run at. Not dwell on my personal failures. Look at everything I succeeded at… Why is it all my successes have caveats?
(My one goal, my one hope, my one dream is stability.
And it feels like a goal that’s impossible to reach.)
Thanks for reading about my personal hell. Didn’t even bring up my father this time. Go me. If you want to buy something from me, [Store] has a bunch of options. Or you can look through my books [Cat Hartliebe’s Books], [Cat Hartliebe’s Amazon].
I wanna leave you with a poem. [Poem: Sweet Little Lie]