Eeeek!

Warning: Emo post follows.

So. I've been out of work for a couple of months. I started a training period at Telenor (telephone company) in December, and I was supposed to work in support. But once again my health caught up with me. Firstly my joints started to hurt, I had tendinitis in my hips and general aches, and secondly my mental health collapsed on me once again. So I basically got sacked in february (allthough "I lost my job" sounds so much better). And after 8-9 years of varying grades of mental instability, I thought it was time to try and deal with it once and for all. To tell you the truth I've been fucking up royally these past few years. Had to quit college twice now, and lost a job. And the schools I've managed to finish I've had way to much absence.

Anyways, I managed to get the slow wheels of the horrible "system" in motion,and have gotten myself a few lovely helpers. A nice doctor who seems to care, a psychiatric day center I can go to if I want to, a good but wierd looking shrink. But I can't stay at home and do nothing all the time. Sounds good, and it is good, but only for a while. My town is small, just about everyone I know has moved away, and there aren't many of those either seeing as I moved away earlier. And the rest of my friends are spread from the northern parts of Norway to Australia. Jolly good, eh?

When I get depressed all I wanna do is stay at home, lock myself up with my videos or the iPod, my knitting or World of Warcraft. But neither of these things help me for very long time. It just distracts me, helping me pass the time. And staying at home doesn't earn me any money. Sadly I'm not reached the level of geekiness yet that enables me to live without basic needs such as food, so I need to get myself an income and stop depending on my dad. That's neither fun nor healthy for any of us.

Now I'm getting to the point; my lovely helpers have fixed me up with a job. I said I wanted to have a job, something to do during the days, and a way to earn some money. So I'm supposed to work 3 days a week at an "old folks home" (what's the word I'm looking for?). I've done this before, as a summer job a few years ago. And that place had more severe patients than the place I'll be working now, so maybe it'll even be a bit easier. And I sort of enjoyed working at the other place. Old folks are like everyone else, someone are spawns of Satan, and some are sweet old ladies or lads. They just need a bit more help then the rest of us. And some are so grateful it makes it all worth while. Yes, I sound like Mother Theresa, now shush.

Starting a job is always spooky, not only do I have to get to know the patients but also the staff and routines of the place. The first weeks is always a bitch. But even though I know staying at home, not doing anything useful, just makes me more depressed, it also means the end of "doing nothing". No more "doing whatever I want, when I want, sleeping as long was I want". But then again, broke and depressed I tend to not "do" very much anyways. Funny circle isn't it. Not liking doing nothing, and being frightened out of my wits of having to do anything. Maybe I'm just a lazy bugger.

And then there's my lovely insomnia or fubar sleeping pattern. I've been trying to turn it around, getting up earlier, but I end up bored and falling asleep each time, leaving me as lost as ever. If I can't fix it when I begin to work I'm looking at some loooong work hours, filled with tiredness.

All in all I'm scared shitless. I'm scared I'll fuck up. Again. For the umpteenth time. Any advice?