As you know, I’ve been running quite ill the last while. But if I’m honest, I also don’t think I’ve been writing here as often because sometimes I get in bad funks. If I’m going to write here, I want to do so honestly, but within reason. I’m not the type to use this space as an online journal. That’s not my thing. But I don’t want to be disingenuous either. So even if I’ve got some funny story about the book store I could recount, there are times where I really feel like I’m splintering and that overwhelms my psyche at times to the exclusion of all else.
As a result, I don’t write, because I don’t want to whine online. But I started this blog to keep myself writing, and stopping for long periods isn’t good either. Hence I shall try and strike more of a balance.
So with that in mind...
It occurred to me last night that one of my great failings is that I have great reservoirs of endurance, but not of adaptation. I was almost frantic at the thought of coming back in to work today. I suppose three weeks of feeling like crap while trying to appear like I had some semblance of skill caught up with me. Having had four full days away from work, made me even less enthusiastic about returning.
But I started asking myself why I keep going through this cycle. When I step back and look at things in their own right, they’re not overly bad. Yes the workload is a lot. Yes a certain co-worker can be taxing on my nerves because we are different, but at the same time is extremely talented and fundamentally a good person. Yes, there is a lot of flux at the moment due to a restructuring.
But so what? It’s not like any of the above factors is catastrophic. It’s not as if this is my life. Why in essence, do I find it so hard to just deal?
Maybe it’s because I feel like I’ve been “just dealing” with things as long as I can remember and this gets back to my point of endurance versus adaptation. I can never seem to make the leap and fully engage with things. My reaction to inefficiencies is on an anaphylactic level. It seems that because I don’t ever fully buy in to this corporate gig, I’m always working with my nose against the glass, peering in on a world I’m entrenched in, yet want no part of.
Ragdoll and I talked about this and she said that it’s fundamentally not what I want, should or am meant to be doing, therefore it’s taking a logical depressive toll. This in turn makes me feel guilty. It’s not as if I have a bad job, far from it. I could be crawling out of a hut to go work in a rice field all day. So there I am, rolling all this around in my head, never really discharging from it all when the weekend hits, all wound up inside at the thought of wasting my life investing so much time in something I just don’t care about and yet feeling guilty about that because I could have a job decidedly higher on the suck scale.
I can’t be the only one who feels this way, and yet everyone else seems better able to adapt, to just accept this as a part of life and roll with it.
What am I trying to say? I don’t know. All I know at this point is that I have wanted out of “the corporation” since the moment I walked into it. And there are days where I am genuinely scared that I’ll never find the reserves to finish the book, play or whatever that could be my ticket out, and that I’ll be stuck here another 20 years.
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1 comment:
As someone who fairly recently quit a "good job" - a good job doesn't mean it's a good job for you. On paper my job looked pretty darned good, right down to the working from home in my pjs (which I must still say was a pretty sweet deal). When I stopped and realized that my earlier "crappy" jobs (think fast food and fish factories) made me less miserable...well, that was saying something.
Just wanted you to know that not everyone adapts and rolls with it. I tried for awhile. But leaving was the best darned thing I've done in years.
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