The Girl Without A Name

Hello there.
This has probably been the hardest year of my life.
Everything seemed to be perfect over the summer. A boy asked me out, I was about to start university. Everything was going so well. Until I realized that university wasn't for me at that point. Dropping out of university is one of those things where half of you is screaming at you not to even entertain that thought and the other half of you is overwhelmingly relieved at the thought of no longer being enrolled in school. I took the plunge. I did what no parent would ever want their child to do. I dropped out of all of my classes, got my money back, and started trying to find a job. As it turns out, when you're desperate, you'll take just about any job. Even if that exact job caused your brother's girlfriend to have a mental breakdown. Yes, I took a job that caused a breakdown in my brother's girlfriend. It kind of went like this:
   Her: Hey, you should apply where I used to work. I think you'd be really good at it.
   Me: Eh, I don't know...
   Her: You would love it!
   Me: Okay...
So I applied to be a support worker. I didn't hear back for weeks and just assumed that I wouldn't be getting the job, so I continued to hunt. I actually breathed a sigh of relief, until one day when I checked my email and saw that I had an interview to become a support worker. Part of me was extremely excited, the other part.. was not. Anyways, I went for the interview and messed up a few questions and thought that there was no way that they would hire me. Based on how the interviewer spoke to me afterward, I was pretty much certain that I had the job. I was pretty stoked (if I'm honest) and spent the car ride home chatting excitedly to my mom. It was only a matter of weeks before I had my CPR/First Aide training and was ready to start training in the house with the ladies that I would be working with. My manager was pretty cool and things didn't seem too hard. I got to know the ladies that lived in the home and they seemed to like me enough. I got to know the ropes and met a few other employees that worked in that particular home. The longer that I worked there, the more I realized that I wasn't told all of the details. I continued to learn more and more of the details about the job and the people that I worked with. Eventually, the thought of going to work caused me so much anxiety that I had to quit.
By that point it was mid-December and there were approximately zero companies hiring. (In case you were wondering, finding a job during and after the Christmas season is nearly impossible.) Once I had quit (and gotten over my lengthy round of food-poisoning-and-maybe-a-little-flu), I awoke every day to hear something along the lines of "So have you heard back from any of the places that you've applied at?" One might think that it was just a harmless little encouragement. However, I took it as more, yet less. It was the kind of question that made me feel incapable, inadequate almost, as if I could not manage my own life, like I wasn't even trying.

At this point, I continue to go through my days with purpose. It's ridiculously hard. However, I'm going about it with Christ. I'm pretty sure that the main reason that I haven't found another job yet is because God needs me to learn how to take care of my family (present and future). Every day I get up and I clean, cook, and help out in any way that I can. Even though I don't know what I'll be doing in a week or a month or a year I find peace in the fact that God knows exactly where I'm going.

-The Girl Without A Name-