On Sunday, August 4th 2013, I posted a blog entry entitled "Lifestyle Upgrade." In it, I detailed an exciting new career opportunity and the benefits it would reap. I would like you to go back and read that blog. Seriously, it will take but a moment of your time. Go ahead, I'll wait...
Done? Good.
Having so read that post, I want you understand just how serious I am when I say what I'm about to say. Let it sink into your comprehension the way Artax sank into the Swamp of Sadness.
I was a fucking idiot. A simpleminded, naive idiot.
It's been a long time coming, but now I have to express a dreadful truth I've done my best to contain and suppress, not unlike fighting my gag reflex.
I hate my job. I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate my job.
I've been working since I was 15 or 16 years old. I've had crap jobs and not so crap jobs- calling any of them good would be a huge lie on my part. Throughout it all, I've done what most people do: suck it up, do my shift, and ache for the weekend. That's just a part of adult life. Unless, of course, you're one of those rare and lucky individuals who actually enjoy their work. In which case, I'd like to say "congrats!"
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| "And piss off!" |
But in all of my years, I've never actively dreaded going to work. I've never had to stand in front of a mirror and stare down my own reflection, employing encouraging affirmations and desperately seeking to stem the tide of depression and rank cynicism that this job evokes. Over the past 14 months, I've dealt with depression, the constant second guessing of myself, and more sick days than I've experienced in the last 5 years previous combined; I once boasted having a rock-solid immune system, capable of beating down the meanest colds and most brutal illness. Those days are long gone, I fear. And I am firmly convinced that it is stress that is doing it to me.
Today was that tiny bit straw that laid low the mighty camel. After coming into work and having the first hour spent closeted in my bosses office, going over all the ways I suck, I believe I am well and truly done. I spent the rest of the day in the worst mood I've ever been in.
Let that last statement sink in...
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| Really? Again?! |
Anyone who knows me well knows that I can be an angry person. Hell, "angry" is likely the understatement of this and last century. At its peak, my rage can level mountains and end the lives of thousands; I'm convinced it was my anger that caused the end of the dinosaurs. Maybe. Somehow. Shut up.
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| My rage |
When I'm upset, I explode. It's a quick flash of furious annihilation. And then it's done, and there's peace once more. I don't hold grudges or retain hard feelings. Not usually.
But today, I was in a bad mood. No jokes, no smiles, no conversation that wasn't work related. I simmered and stewed like a cauldron. I don't think I've ever sat in one spot for 8 hours and just seethed. It just isn't my style. But that's what my day was. And more than likely, that's what most of my days will be like as long as I'm still working this job.
Don't get me wrong, the pay is good. I get benefits and PTO. I work with some pretty amazing people; with one exception, I like all of them. I'm doing work that actually matters, that impacts the lives of others in what I hope is a positive way. But if I'm being honest, and I'm always honest, that isn't enough anymore. The work load continues to rise and along with it, the stress. Stress begets ill feelings, ill health, and ultimately a poor style of life. I am so tired of spending my evenings after work depressed about the workday I just experienced and anxious about what the next workday will produce. I'm tired of spending my weekends dreading the following work week. I'm tired of being so worried that I lose sleep. I'm just tired of being tired.
This mesalliance has to come to an end.
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