Things have transitioned from “feeling better because the weight of the job stress is melting away” to “oh shit, I have two days left to finish some stuff”. It started at four, now three, now today, waking up at 5AM again, it’s two. TWO DAYS LEFT OF WORK.
Today I have to switch gears and really stop focusing on doing work and focus more on conversations giving work to other people. Well, one other person anyway – which will be too much too. Hopefully, the newer folks on the team will be picking some things up to help real soon.
Last night I took the kids to visit my Dad who I did not see on Father’s day. I don’t see him very often, maybe four or five times a year including Christmas. In fact, it’s mostly holidays, not that I would consider Father’s day a holiday. They were just getting home and had Godfathers pizza for dinner and I lifted a couple of slices of that since I had not eaten. My dad opened a bottle of my favorite wine (which I brought to Thanksgiving last November that apparently nobody wanted). Later we shared a strawberry pie that I made (my late Grandmother – his mom’s recipe). I finally told him I quit my job.
If there would be one person I would expect to get some grief from or at least be somewhat worried about my choices, it would be my dad. However, I presented it in such a way, there was nothing snarky or skeptical or judgmental someone could say. I painted a picture of 2016 and then went into more detail about my most recent experience in Phoenix and coming home to even more “drama”, with no time for rest in-between. I talked about working 3 weeks straight and not sleeping well and not having time for the kids. After all that, who in their right mind would question my choice. He didn’t.
Yesterday I felt a fair amount of anxiety over, well work primarily, but also just the idea that “stuff” was not getting done and I wanted something that I could point to and say “look, I finished that”. It didn’t happen. Not enough anyway. But talking about my woes with my Dad (and his Wife) made me feel better. I think talking to people in general makes me feel better, but I sometimes feel like it’s a one or two shot deal.
Last fall I talked to my mom multiple times about my situation with Matt and by the 3rd or 4th time she was suggesting counseling. I don’t typically want to burden other people with my heavy stuff, so when she said that, I knew she was 1). Genuinely concerned about my mental health but also 2). Tired already of hearing the same things again. After that, I stopped bringing it up. I never went to see a counselor, because that’s never worked for me before (and I’ve tried two or three times in my life).
With friends, I feel like I really do only have one shot. I tell my story, get their opinion, and then we never talk about it more. The story is ongoing, but honestly not a lot has changed in the last 6 months. What more can you say about it? Yes, I still feel like I made a mistake (several mistakes) last year. Yes, I still feel sick thinking about Matt dating some other girl. Yes, I still want to talk to him and have to resist texting. Yes, I still cry about it. Maybe not as often as I was six months ago, but the road to recovery is long and slow to travel.
I feel like people don’t want to hear my broken record of a sob story. This is why a blog is such a great idea. I can say the same thing day after day after day, and since nobody (not nobody) is reading, nobody (not nobody) will be bored out of their mind with it.
Just like the last few weeks when I probably have talked about quitting my job almost daily.. It does not matter because I can do that here and will not feel like a burden on anyone but those people who perhaps are choosing to silently, anonymously accompany me through it. If you are reading this right now, thanks for sticking with me.
It’s almost 6AM and really time to figure out what today looks like. Hopefully it will include me pointing at something and getting to say “look, I finished that” and that “Too Much” gets just a little smaller. Fingers crossed.
Time to Make the Doughnuts,