Did I forget about you? Not really. There has been this recognition in the back of my mind for a long time now that I haven’t been writing as much as I would like to. So.. I decided to try again.
Feel free to count down the days till I disappear again, if you wish.
About this time last year, I went out and got myself a job. At the time, I was proud of myself, and happy that I even managed. At the time, I hadn’t had an actual job yet. Rather, I was getting by financially through a combination of student loans, scholarships, and being a mooch on my parents.
A year on, everything has changed. You see, I am growing to hate my job. There isn’t a day of work that passes that doesn’t fill me with dread, anxiety, and depression. The store in which I work is starting to collapse around me. The emptiness of the shelves is apparent to all who have been through more than once over the years. My boss fails to respect the hard work of her employees and takes their skills completely for granted.
At the moment, I hate it there. … … … But, I am also completely terrified to leave.
You see, not only has this retail job been the first one that I have ever had, but it also happens to be a job in a field that I love. I work in a sex shop and, as my blogs should tell you, sexuality is kinda my thing. In this job, I have gotten the chance to run anal sex workshops with more than 100 people in attendance, I got paid (at times) to read sexual health information that I would do for fun, and I have gotten paid to learn new bondage ties and use them on complete strangers.
Those aspects of the job are super fun, exciting, and make me want to take on more. But, the time in between just drags on forever. Between these euphoric highs that I experience teaching and learning about sexuality, there is the doldrum of real life. There is stocking shelves, selling products, and dealing with the work environment. And, to be perfectly honest, the first two of those don’t bother me at all. It is the dealing with the work environment that really gets to me.
It has become a daily occurrence lately that my boss would make a completely unreasonable request of her staff. Whether it is doing drywall complete with sanding and painting, or intense computer configuration and IT, she so expects that her employees will bend over backwards for her that she doesn’t even say thank you when the task is completed.
And for all of this (plus some personality quirks that I just can’t stand), my colleagues and I make a poverty wage. Even if I worked full-time for every week of the year, I would not make it above the poverty without the help of a second job. That isn’t right. That isn’t fair to myself or my coworkers.
I just can’t stand it anymore. … … … But my fear paralyzes me.
What if I can’t find something in this field again? Worse, what if I can’t get a job that pays any better or if I can’t get a job that I can actually feel good doing?
And then I swing back to “Oh, maybe it isn’t so bad after all.” But, really, I know that it is. I know that I am more emotional, more depressed, more anxious than I have ever been. And, I know that the job is the reason why … … but yet, that leap is so terrifying.
This fear makes me hate myself.
*sighs* So, that’s where I am. I am at the edge of a precipice, looking at the leap that I know I need to take. I am looking at how far there is to fall and visualizing the terrible result of doing just that. If only I hadn’t looked down. If only…