2005 Year in Review

I’ve been trying to write the year in review since last week, right before Christmas. I went through every single month, in my head and on this blog, and tried to find the highlight of each month. I really, really tried to slog through all the negativity and bitterness of this past year to come up with a year in review that didn’t sound sarcastic or uninspired or repetitive. Looking over 2004′s review, I was not surprised at what I found: relative cheeriness dashed with the periodic spats of sadness and uncertainty. This year, it was like reading through my greatest saddest hits. I was just not happy in 2005. It’s the last day of the year, and all I can say is good riddance.

The last time I had a year like this, it was 1997. The year 1998 was inifinitely better, so I hope for a turnaround in 2006. However, we’re still in 2005, and I can count only a few good things that happened to me:

1) My half-marathon. I did it, I finally did it. I think I ascribed too much significance to it, but as a running accomplishment, it reigns supreme at the moment. Like the M.A., no one else in my family has done a half-marathon. However, unlike the M.A., the half-marathon experience will actually help me when I next line up for the gun.

Um . . . well, in terms of actual happenings that don’t involve the people who I love tremendously, I can’t say much good happened. Isn’t that sad? Of course I adore my family, of course my boyfriend’s the most wonderful man in the world, of course my friends can be depended on for a few laughs if nothing else, but what else of huge significance happened? Nothing. I don’t need every year to be a landmark year in WordNerdia, but the fact that the past 12 months are punctuated with laments more than thanks is a huge hint as to what my mood was this year. Lots of good happened around me, to be sure, but not much of it happened to me. I am not kidding when I say that I’m sick of hearing about others’ successes and good news. I am not kidding when I say that I cannot wait until the clock turns over to January 1, 2006. Maybe I’ll be asleep, maybe I’ll be awake and drowning my sorrows in a screwdriver, but I’ll welcome the new year. I once said that I’d be crying my eyes out if I were still in this house when the new year hit, but I honestly don’t think I will be: I am thoroughly sick of 2005 and will bid it adieu with the heartiest of fake French accents.

If I try to count all the bad things that happened to me in 2005–material galore! No raise. No professional recognition. Crappy Friends Who Only Like to Complain But Never Want to Hear About My Problems: The Gift That Keeps on Giving. Continued physical distance between my boyfriend and me. Telecommuting from home. Several unexpected car repairs. A newfound phobia of running outside because of dogs (which I’m slowly but surely overcoming). Can’t find a job for the life of me. I got sued (lovely story, thanks, I’d rather not tell it). Continuously subjected to stories of my friends’ good fortunes. Feelings of self-esteem and worth plummeting with each job rejection. Repeat ad nauseum. I feel like getting a tatoo that reads “Loser” on my forehead.

This year both sucked and blew, and I didn’t think that was physically possible (to paraphrase Bart Simpson).

Yesterday, my mother wanted to talk to me. I have no idea why, but she just said that she was worried about me, about my happiness. I couldn’t talk only because a friend was coming over (a friend who left rather quickly because, frankly, I wasn’t in the mood to be cheery and funny and more than a lump of flesh on the couch in front of the TV), but I imagine that my mother might think I’m depressed. I don’t know if I am–I am genuinely happy with my personal life, there’s absolutely no complaining about that. Career-wise, though, I am in a rut that I cannot seem to dig out of. I just don’t know where I went wrong: I went to school, I got the degrees, I got experience, I’m an excellent employee. Yet no one will pay me more than $28,000 per year, five years post-college graduation, nearly three years post-grad school graduation. It took me four months to find a low-paying, part-time job at a local college in 2003, and it took me nearly an entire year to find a local, salaried position. Now, I’m going on eight months of searching in a relatively big city where out-of-towners seem to get offers all the time. If my mother’s worried about my career sanity, it’s definitely wearing thin, and I’m perilously close to quitting my job because I honestly don’t want to begin a new season with my company. I feel that, if I begin a new season with them, I’ll be stuck there for the 2006 season. I just can’t handle that, and the idea makes my throat close. I want out. I also honestly think that my mom thinks that I’m looking for a permanent way out, but that’s not the case at all. I just want to get out of my miserable company that can’t even pluck up the courage to tell me why it can’t give me a raise. I’d respect them so much more if it did. But truthfully, I do think she thinks my thoughts might turn to suicide. Career suicide, maybe, but definitely not honest-to-God suicide.

I held back all the negativity this month because I had hope that 2005 might turn into a stellar year right before it ran out of steam. My hope, though certaintly not gone, is seriously erroded. Just end already, 2005. Go home, and don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.

So, I really can’t say a lot about 2005. I got to kick ass in a half-marathon, I got to see beautiful southwestern sights thanks to my boyfriend, I got to share more than a few funny moments with my parents and my siblings, I got to try to ignore my friends and their asshat comments (no matter what year it is, that’ll never change, I’ve learned). But I will not miss this year because it’s delivered more heartache and frustration than I can stand. I really do feel beaten and broken and close to giving up and just finding a new job here and never trying to do anything interesting and amazing again because frankly, it just never works out for me and apparently God is condemning me to a life in Michigan. But then I think about all that I want and I don’t think I deserve to be stuck here in this cold and misery and low-paying life. I don’t think that everyone will ignore my talents and the contributions I can make to a new company; I don’t think that everyone will be unwilling to give me a chance to lift myself out of this midwestern misery. Like Weezer says, “You’ll never do the things you want if you don’t move and get a job.” I just can’t sit here and take it. I can’t resign myself to that because there’s absolutely no reason to. It’d be one thing if I had a family to support: I’d suck it up for them. But I don’t have those limitations, and I have nothing holding me back (except for rotten luck when it comes to finding good jobs).

Well, whatever happens, good riddance to 2005. Adios, 2005. And I’ll heartily tell you, one last time: fuck off.