So tomorrow I’m going to quit my job.
I’ve had another opportunity offered to me that’s so much better, and the only reason this is an issue is because I’m very close to my boss. She has done her best to make things happen to make me stay there. I feel guilty. I feel beholden to her. After a year of being sexually harassed by a supervisor, she fought to get rid of that person for me (which, I know, is what she should have done anyway.)
But I still feel like she made all these waves for me and now I’m jumping ship.
It doesn’t make me feel better that I’m not totally psyched about the new job either, but the truth is, I’m anxious about everything. I liken my anxiety to a soup-dispensing rack at the grocery store– you know, you grab one and another rolls forward to take its place?
Sometimes I feel like I’m just coming undone. Like I’m going to wake up one day and not be able to do it anymore. I don’t know what the big breakdown will be, but sometimes it feels so near, and that’s frightening. I think suicidal ideation is the next step in the process for me, but I’m trying not to let it get that far. I need to stop “toughing it out” (a bad habit of mine) and take my allotted amount of Xanax regularly.
I feel like I’d love to muse on so many other things, but it seems like every time I sit down to write all this stuff just pours out of me like bile. On the other hand, that’s probably what helps me to feel better after it’s out of me.
Did I mention that I am SO. ANXIOUS. ABOUT. TOMORROW. Yikes, kid, get a grip.
I was talking about happiness today to my mom and I suddenly realized that I was speaking some truths about myself. How we only get one life, and why not take chances and live in a way that makes you wildly happy? Why struggle to get through day after monotonous day? What’s the point, then? Live happily, joyously, live with excitement and freedom. I almost started crying because I realized how seldom I give myself a chance to live like that. I’ve spent almost a year trying to crawl out from beneath this rock of depression and sometimes peaceful calm is the very best I can achieve. Sometimes. Sometimes the best I can do is whiteknuckle my way through every day until I’m in bed at night, dreading the next before I succumb to sleep. What a way to live, huh? If I knew I was dying tomorrow, I’d hate myself for feeling this way everyday.
If I cut myself a break, I do find pockets of happiness. A. takes the time to write me a letter, or I receive a compliment at work, or my mom makes me laugh. Today I laughed so hard that my drink almost came out my nose and my makeup ran down my cheeks. I made peanut butter sandwiches for the squirrels and petted my dog. I have such a good, good life.
I just have to focus on one step. One small victory at a time. One hard thing to get through at a time. I can do this. I can quit my job. One day at a time.