Never Humble

October 6th

Wow, so apparently my boyfriend or friend or just someone who has any relation to me left a lighter laying in the yard. Who found it? The guy mowing our lawn. So I almost killed somebody and my mom questioned why I had a lighter. It's basically screaming "I smoke weed". It makes me feel guilty especially because my mom's a respiratory therapist and my dad's an addicted smoker of 20+ years. I can't tell you how many times I've said that sentence, I can't even tell if it carries the same punch of irony. So, growing up I learned the medical effects of smoking and how it destroys family. Spoiler, my parents are divorced. And have been for awhile. I mean, at least I don't smoke cigarettes. FUCK cigarettes. I try not to smoke blunts very often due to the tobacco. I try to get the smoke into my body in the most efficient way possible. I'd eat edibles every day if I could. I don't know, I don't want to tell my mom. I've been doing this for months and I'm fully functional. Let me put it to you this way, I'm that freckly little white girl who weighs next to nothing, with the bright blue eyes, and auburn hair. I have a moderately soothing voice and my appearance is the farthest thing from intimidating. Needless to say, not a lot of people suspect I'm actually a massive fucking stoner. It's been a lifesaver due to my anxiety.
One time I had an anxiety attack in a doctor's office because she told me to bring my insurance card in next time. I was so shaken because I had walked 45 minutes to the hospital, in a blizzard, at eight am for a physical that was required for my first job. I was a 16 year old (17 in a week) who had never had a job before and had spent the last two years being homeschooled. Socialization has become a rarity so having to go to the clinic on my own, was a horrifying experience. My future boss told me not to bring anything, that it was set up through their facility, and I wouldn't have to worry about it. So obviously when I repeatedly asked if I needed to bring anything, my world ended when the mom behind the counter politely asked me to bring my insurance card next time. I went and cried in the bathroom while I waited for the nurse to call my name. I considered walking out. I nearly fucking left. It was somewhere I had viewed as a hostile environment due to my mom having worked there previously and being treated poorly. I recognized no one, there was no familiarity, and I felt like I was in the wrong. The ticking of the clock might as well have punched me in the face it appeared to be so loud. The TV on the wall was playing some fucking morning television show and they were currently doing a cooking segment while the volume rested at 11. The silence was defeaning, everyone waiting for the same thing and the neutrality of the situation caused me to believe everyone had noticed my state. I was crying, but didn't want comfort. I didn't want ANYONE asking if I was okay, I wanted no attention drawn in my direction.
I sniffled my way through my physical and made the trek back home. That was a start to a shit job. Then another shit job. And now I'm at an okay job, I think. It's kinda hard to tell in the beginning. I'm scared I might have already found a manager I don't like and that's scaring me. I don't want to be afraid of my superior, that's always been my downfall, but always seems to fucking prevail. Maybe she's just stupid. I don't know.