I have this window of writing opportunity every day between 10am and 2pm. It’s not an opportunity of time, but an opportunity of mental clarity. Those four hours of every day are when I am capable of producing strings of sentences that I am proud of. Those four hours are when I feel the most complete with my life. I’ve lost those four hours when I went back to work and I feel it every second of every day. Today was particularly rough because when I went back to this job, it was with the understanding that I would work a full day Monday and Friday and half days mid week. No weekends necessary, just there to make things run smooth. Well, Sunday, I went in from 7-8pm to make sure the guys who were coming in at 4 am knew what they needed to get started on. Then, I came in at 8 am Monday and worked until 8pm to make sure the rest of the week went smooth for every one else. After all, that’s why I’m so useful to this company, but then I come in Tuesday and nobody is following the schedule that I so thoughtfully planned out. They just do whatever the fuck they want. Which would be fine if I didn’t give a shit about my job and maybe I need to go that route, but it’s just not me. I’m either all in or all out. It’s my character flaw. So 10 am rolls around and my beautifully thought out ballet has turned back in to a three ring circus and I’m just sitting there thinking to myself, “I could be at home writing. I could be fulfilling my own dream instead of trying to make this fucking guy’s dream come true when he clearly likes chasing his tail and doesn’t give a fuck about the time I’ve put in to any of it.” And the more I thought about it, the more pissed off I got. I snapped on pretty much everyone (not necessarily undeservingly because they have no idea how much thought and time goes into scheduling things so they make sense) and then I politely grabbed my shit and took the rest of the day off. I turned off my work phone and headed home. I knew I wouldn’t write today because my moment had passed and I can’t figure out a way to retrain my brain to work during other times. So on my way, I got a call from a former coworker who asked me to stop by. She’s a little older than me so she has lived a little more and is way wiser. In the midst of our conversation, she said that she loves me so much because I am the only person in her life that she doesn’t have to worry about. She said she never worries about me the way she worries about every one else because she knows I will always be ok. And it dawned on me, that is probably the consensus of everyone who knows me. I will always be alright so there’s no need to worry, but if I’m being honest, I want someone to worry about me. I want someone to say “it’ ok to not be ok.” Sometimes I can’t vocalize what is wrong and I’m not ok, but I keep smiling and pretending that nothing bothers me when everything is and I have days like today where I can’t function in society because I am so filled with rage that should really be directed at myself for not setting boundaries and for not doing what it is I love to do more and for letting other’s expectations run my life.
Sorry, I know this went extremely downhill and far left. I’m just feeling honest. Thank God, I didn’t open the vodka in my freezer or there would probably me much more honesty where this came from. Just so I don’t end this on some morbidly boowoo-ey pity party type shit, I just want you to know that tomorrow will not be so deep. I plan on telling you about the treachery that is me trying to floss my teeth. So, see you then, it’s much lighter with way more saliva 😉
RouletteWeekend 