All of my life I’ve been a very good worker bee. I’ve gotten up, gone to work for eight hours, plus lunch, and came home to live my life after. For me, though, I did those jobs for the people in my life. I was a single mom at 18, then a devoted wife, and I had to make a living to enjoy my life when not at work.
I decided this last fall that I needed a better source of income, so I went looking for work. My old job has welcomed me back, and everyone has been amazing. Accommodations have been made. Help has been offered. But I literally cannot do this. I feel like my life has drained away. I have been late to work three times in the past week. Not just a little late, but 20-30 minutes late. Three times. In a week.
The company I worked for is literally a great place to work. It wins awards year after year for excellence in customer service, being a great place to work on the national and local level, and generally is a fun place where people have a real future and real career if they can stick it out and find their niche. Everything about my life has been blessed whenever I am in contact with this company.
When my husband died, I was well on the way to finding that niche for myself. I was doing a super cool job at a super cool company doing something I enjoyed as part of an elite team of experts in our field. We were winning awards, and I was generally really enjoying it. I’d likely be a manager now if not for Storm’s death; my colleagues who were on my team with me now run the team. My life is very different than it once was, and I am a very different person. Four years after the death of my husband, I realize I am simply not equipped to work a forty hour a week job; at least, not in this rigid structure.
Yes, there are options for intermittent FMLA and other accommodations, but what I really need; part-time and/or working from home, these are not available. I need to be able to go to grief group and volunteer and spend my time doing something other than working or getting ready for work. I need to have time to cook a proper meal or simply the freedom to go back to bed.
Thursday I showed up with a migraine. I was exhausted. I knew I couldn’t stay. I left at lunchtime, and I didn’t go back. All of my PTO is gone, and I am only one month out of training. I appreciate all of the help, and my supervisor genuinely cared about my circumstances, but trying to manage my everyday life while spending most of my time at my work life just wasn’t working. The stress of it was making me miserable, and I cried every day. I didn’t feel like doing anything. I felt like I was missing out on the best parts of my life. None of which was my employer’s fault.
So here I am…back to the ranks of the unemployed. I can’t decide how I feel about it. Mostly, I’m relieved and happy to be getting a few things done in my house. I feel like a quitter, and that stings, but ultimately, my mental health has to be more important than my pride. I am a teensy bit worried about money, but I typically managed to find work before; I imagine I will be able to do so again. I have mad skills and a great bank of experience, and with just a tiny bit of motivation, I could probably make a living as a freelancer in presentation design. I have a list of work from home companies, and I am applying my way through them.
I recall in a past life in another job sitting in a room of coaches and managers (I was one of the coaches), having our monthly performance review and discussing potential terminations. There were people who just couldn’t get it together and get to work, or do their jobs when they were there. I genuinely didn’t understand, and I am certain I said unkind and insensitive, uncaring things. I truly was a giant bitch. Thinking back on that, I now recognize that look on a person’s face. That rat in a cage look. I now understand where they are were coming from, and while I do feel bad for being a jackass, I can't change the past. I'll add it to my list of regreat.
I don’t really have a positive note to end this one on, except to say that I have finally learned that “pushing through it” and “getting over it” are no longer options of mine. Accepting my limitations and managing one day at a time are more in my range of options these days. Right now, the power is on, there’s groceries in the kitchen, and I have a contract gig that pays a little. Right now, I’m ok, so we’ll keep moving on from here, and hoping for the best.
Thanks for reading, and thanks for caring. 😊
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