That's all I can think after my first day back at work: I want out. It's not only because I couldn't log on to my computer, I had no phone and no cell phone reception. It wasn't because when a co-worker let me use his id to log on, most of the files I kept on my hard drive were gone. No. It's that while I had almost nothing to do, I couldn't even do the one thing that would have been useful: read a draft report. It's not that I don't remember how to do the work (how could I forget?). No. It's that I can't imagine being happy doing this work day after day. I have never liked it. When I first started the job, I enjoyed the challenge of learning how to do the job. But the substance of what I do? I can't stand it. It's boring. Very boring.
I can't up and quit at this moment but staying in this job will kill me--heart and soul--that's what my time away has taught me. I wish I knew what I wanted to do instead, but I have learned, with almost complete certainty, that I can't stay. What's crazy is how much they need me and how much good I could do there. With a new administration, things are sure to get better and possibly we'll get more interesting projects. But the substance of what I do? It will (I think) stay the same. And if it does? I have to get out.
I have this idea that I'll put myself on a one year austerity plan. I will attempt to save as much money as possible over the next year (not quite sure what that will entail, I need to give it some thought), and then I will quit for good whether or not I have something else lined up.
Since getting back, I've been surprisingly happy. I've had a lot of stuff to get organized and that helped. I wasn't spending all my time missing Kent and worried about our nebulous relationship. But, even when I did think about him, I felt happy. It's all good memories and no regrets and only the slightest tinge of anxiety. We're staying in touch and while that doesn't mean much since it's only been a week, I haven't nothing to worry about. I can't control the future--it is what it is and I'm pretty calm about that. I actually smiled when I thought that I'll get to tell people about him--talking about him makes me happy. So, even that situation is a net positive.
Being in our crappy temporary workspace (they're cubing our old office), in a communication black hole, was the first time I've felt bad since being home. I got grumpier and grumpier as the day wore on. I didn't want to be there. It felt like a waste of time. Why didn't I bring some knitting? Why couldn't I focus and read that damn report?
Out. I have to get out.
Grateful for: knowing.
I can't up and quit at this moment but staying in this job will kill me--heart and soul--that's what my time away has taught me. I wish I knew what I wanted to do instead, but I have learned, with almost complete certainty, that I can't stay. What's crazy is how much they need me and how much good I could do there. With a new administration, things are sure to get better and possibly we'll get more interesting projects. But the substance of what I do? It will (I think) stay the same. And if it does? I have to get out.
I have this idea that I'll put myself on a one year austerity plan. I will attempt to save as much money as possible over the next year (not quite sure what that will entail, I need to give it some thought), and then I will quit for good whether or not I have something else lined up.
Since getting back, I've been surprisingly happy. I've had a lot of stuff to get organized and that helped. I wasn't spending all my time missing Kent and worried about our nebulous relationship. But, even when I did think about him, I felt happy. It's all good memories and no regrets and only the slightest tinge of anxiety. We're staying in touch and while that doesn't mean much since it's only been a week, I haven't nothing to worry about. I can't control the future--it is what it is and I'm pretty calm about that. I actually smiled when I thought that I'll get to tell people about him--talking about him makes me happy. So, even that situation is a net positive.
Being in our crappy temporary workspace (they're cubing our old office), in a communication black hole, was the first time I've felt bad since being home. I got grumpier and grumpier as the day wore on. I didn't want to be there. It felt like a waste of time. Why didn't I bring some knitting? Why couldn't I focus and read that damn report?
Out. I have to get out.
Grateful for: knowing.
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