Reading my journal from just over a year ago and came across this personal eye opener.
Here’s a perfect example of my life. Today I feel horrendous, stomach churning and knotted with anxiety, unwelcome suicidal thoughts popping into my head hourly. I’ve come to the conclusion, I hate my job. I read a meme that said, “you don’t hate Mondays, you hate your life”. It hit me hard how true this is. I also hate Mondays though. I hate Mondays because I’m staring down the barrel of a 5 day, 40 hour week in a job I have no desire to be in. Tuesdays are better purely because they’re not Mondays. Wednesday I celebrate because I’m “half way there”. This to me is awful. Half way where? I am literally celebrating because half my time doing what I get paid to do is over and there’s only a couple more days to suffer before I get to my “free” time. I know a lot of people who live like this. I don’t want to. I have a lot of “fuck it” type beliefs (and behaviours) that often make me feel better, I just have to resolve myself to the fact that I MUST do this because it’s how I earn the money to live in my nice house and drive my nice car.
This problem began when I began thinking I wanted more from the job I was in. I felt I was capable of more. I wanted more of a challenge. I felt I deserved more money for the level of responsibility I had. So off I went in search of a “better” job and ended up in a fucking sales office. I hate sales. I hate the insincerity and bending the truth, all the while trying to convince someone to spend money on something they probably don’t want and definitely don’t need. It’s ridiculously stressful and entirely meaningless. My workload was unmanageable and I almost completely shut down. I was miserable. I so desperately want to do something I love and care about but I lose interest. Or perhaps I haven’t found it yet. I will love and care about something with such enthusiasm and tenacity and with my entire being for a while, perhaps even a few months but then it disperses and becomes the norm and therefore a chore. I can’t think of any one thing I’ve been “into” for any real length of time. I like talking and reading and analysing people, the world, and myself. I like thinking. So that’s what I’m doing now, thinking out loud in the hope that I’ll somehow discover something in myself along the way. Hoping that something will resonate enough for me to open my own eyes and find what it is I need to do.