I’m not really sure what’s going on with me. Maybe I’m just worse than I thought.
I’m supposed to get another promotion (to the manager’s position above my own) by the end of August/beginning of September, and I’m still deeply considering leaving altogether, regardless of how good the experience would be for me. Let’s face it, I’m true to my nature: I like to buy things. I’ve bought myself a sewing machine and special ordered all the supplies so that I can start making corsets and other things, but I keep thinking how much better I’d feel if I was doing all these hobbies full time instead of wasting 160+ hours a month at a fucking piece of shit job that I can’t stand, with people I can stand even less.
I admit it; I do nothing but bide my time. I’m buying things because I desperately need a distraction. From life. From being alive. I don’t know what to do. Yes, that’s right. I don’t know. I have no idea. I have no aspirations, no goals. I’m so short-term it’s becoming difficult for even me to fathom. I don’t know my hours for work until the night before, when I bother myself enough to check so I might go to bed earlier/later.
Sometimes it’s far too much to handle. I feel like the strain doesn’t go away anymore; there is no ‘relaxing’ when I get home because I’m just too wound-up to be fixed overnight now. Everything hurts physically; my hands have callouses, which they’ve never had, my feet never stop their constant ache, and bending at all is an agony I try to avoid.
It sounds like a whole lot of bitching and complaining, but what’s funny is that I almost never say anything. I just suck it up and deal with it, because it seems ridiculous to moan about it when it’s all my parents have ever done their entire lives: work to the point of perpetual exhaustion. It’s only been a little over a year, what would 4-5 feel like? How about 20? I know that I’m just weak and not cut out for it. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m never good enough.
I swear I try as hard as I can.