I’m getting that feeling again.
The one where my life feels like it’s at a standstill.
Where I feel like if I looked forward five years from now and this was my life, I would hate myself for letting it get this way.
It’s not Andy. It’s not even Austin yet. It’s my job.
I know, I literally just started two weeks ago, but I already feel like I’m in this stupid revolving door and I can’t get a second to breathe or change.
I hate working for people. Mostly because I feel like I have to take shit from them because I need the money. In this case I am really trying to put my family first because I really want to see them. The only way this is possible is if I work here (or somewhere else that gives $15/hr. But even if I found another job it would be the same thing.
I’d have the same feelings.
I’d write about the same things.
Am I that difficult? Am I that delusional?
Anyone would be happy to have a job where they can sit in a comfy chair, have minimal day to day tasks, have an annoying boss who only really has an hour a day to pester them, have the ability to surf the web for 8 pretty solidly interrupted hours, and the flexibility to switch shifts with people.
Anyone would be happy to have a significant other to spend time with when they aren’t at work, and I am really happy for that, but I feel like I’m not getting to enjoy it as much because I’m working 6 consecutive days in a row and then getting a shitty day off when he’s working or has Lucas. Any day that I get off I can’t really go anywhere or else I won’t get any sleep. Waking up at 5am is really, really difficult. Especially when you’ve never had to do it once in your life.
Andy and I are making it work. On weekdays we both have to wake up at 5-5:30 am, so we are able to sleep over at each other’s places without too much of a hassle, but I just miss when we could sleep in on a Saturday and wake up in bliss as opposed to zombie-like. See, I get that I will have certain Saturdays off and it’ll all be okay, but I don’t want to live like that. I don’t like to feel like an old woman who sleeps when she has free time because she’s exhausted. I don’t like to feel like an old couple that FINALLY gets to sleep in after weeks of waking up at 5am. I don’t like to feel like I’m getting thrown a stupid bone for all those hours I put in. I don’t like to feel desperate. Still, I feel very selfish.
Anyone would be proud of themselves for getting a job like this. This is a good job.
Why am I feeling so entitled? As if I’m too good for this job?
I’m angry at myself today, friends.
So I’m going to finish this post before I partake in self loathing.
It’s not even that I necessarily hate my job right now at this moment (which I’m currently at by the way). I’d just really like a promise that this isn’t going to be the rest of my life. Waking up, work, waking up, work, waking up, work, waking up, work, work, work, work, day off where I do nothing. waking up, work.
I really need to find a psychiatrist for this medication problem. Just yesterday I had a fleeting thought. It was gone as fast as it came.
“I wouldn’t have to go to work tomorrow if I was dead.”