occupation choices..

i was thinking.. and it feels like i've thought about this before- i wonder if maybe my grandma wanted me to work a home data entry job to avoid shit that happened to me yesterday with transportation (which i'm not even sure they'll still wanna hire me because of my transportation and they don't know if they could rely on me to work if my transportation didn't come and/or i have to reschedule the ride for a later time again). then i also remember the most probable reason why she tried to make a home data entry job look more appealing to me- my grandma was a very nervous woman who was more than likely on a lot of anxiety meds and she was more than likely trying to protect me from anyone who would give me a bad time. i had thought that was the correct direction to go when looking for occupations until i actually put myself out there and volunteered for different things. i enjoyed interacting with people and it wasn't as boring as just working with a keyboard in front of a tv screen, day after day without any communication or interaction with anyone. it was probably better for my mental health too because i wasn't just left alone to think negative thoughts and/or about things that were going wrong for me that just thinking about them wouldn't make things better- so it basically distracted me from reality. i remember asking my grandma probably close to 20 years ago about what she thought about being a receptionist. she scoffed and said, "OH! THEN YOU'LL HAVE TO DEAL WITH PEOPLE ON THE PHONE AND NOT EVERYONE IS HAPPY ALL THE TIME! YOU DON'T WANNA DEAL WITH MAD PEOPLE ALL THE TIME! NO.." my grandma was also a pretty controlling person. i think that's probably why i don't think i was actually employed while she was alive, but she always said how she wanted someone to help me get a job. i just stopped and thought to myself, "i let her influence my life so much when it was MY life- NOT hers." what did letting her direct my life get me? unemployed and depressed (although i have to thank my mom for the PTSD diagnosis that the psychologist gave to me). i thought family was supposed to help and care for a person to actually support them to be truly helpful and satisfied with their lives. my family reads my blog because they're nosey and anxious to read something they did which actually benefited me and so they have something to talk and laugh about with each other. proof that they don't ACTUALLY care enough to REALLY know me. (with exception to my cousin joe and my brother jay) which is MORE than likely not many of them read my blog anymore because I'M NOT GONNA LIE ON MY BLOG. find someone else to traumatize and stalk which you can act like they're stools to step on to help elevate you in life because you're NOT gonna get that bullshit here.
i just went to the bathroom and i wondered if there's anything i can be grateful for in my situation. the ONLY thing i can honestly come up with is at least i'm NOT still mindlessly hauling my ass to courage kenny getting NOTHING done with my life because i don't have CARING advocacy who is more concerned about my PROGRESSION in life. i'm actually volunteering and applying to jobs, going to interviews and actually TRYING to make something of my life.