The daily panic attack

Since I discovered the wonderfulness of wellbutrin, I don’t get obsessed over men and I rarely cry. However, right now I wish I could cry because after you cry you feel better, at least a little bit, temporarily. I am so stressed out and worried about not having a job, and so dejected about the constant stream of rejection.

Okay, I didn’t get into Stanford and I didn’t get a scholarship from Georgetown, but I’m still at a top-tier law school. I’m not in the top ten percent of my class, but I am in the top third. I’m not on law review, but I’m on the board of a well-respected journal. But I feel like a loser because so many employers have rejected me out of hand based on the not-on-law-review, not-at-the-top-of-the-class thing. I know, rationally, that I will find a job and that I shouldn’t panic and that I should stay focused on what I want. I know that half of my class will still be unemployed at graduation but we all will be employed a year from now. But things are very tense at the moment.

I can’t bear to talk to my parents because they are in such a frenzy of worry about it. It seems they are worried even more than I am, which is unhelpful and insulting. I prefer my friends who seem to take it for granted that I will get a job, so what’s the big deal. That’s probably the right attitude, but no one knows what this is like, to be in a scary amount of debt, all my savings gone, 7 months from my 40th birthday, and no fucking job.

I can’t cry, so I eat or spend money instead. The former is especially unhelpful when I don’t know when my next infusion of cash will arrive.