A Light at the End of the Tunnel

After the last entry, I fessed up to husband about how much I want to not work for a while. About how burned out I feel. Though my work is laid-back and the people nice, I simply don’t want to be there.

Six months to a year to have one less responsibility and to breathe.

Working non-stop since age 15 has had its effects on me. I suppose I’m not tough enough. I’m sure there are people out there who’ve worked 80 hours a week since age 12 and never grumbled about it. I know from an outsider perspective I seemingly have nothing to complain about. A high wage at a nice place with good benefits, how ungrateful and unappreciative I am. But the exhaustion doesn’t disappear with that sort of chastisement. I simply have no room or energy to order the disordered machine of my mind and my life when 40 hours a week I’m expected to use that energy to function and to produce. I’ve been trying and failing to do that for many years.

I’ve started looking into options. FMLA leave. Quitting. Unpaid leave. Though, the last one I feel is less likely due to my huge decline in productivity in the last two years. I’m not a rockstar, not a highly valued employee. They have little reason to give me a sabbatical or unpaid leave for that long. Easier to quit, before I’m fired. It annoys me somewhat that he doesn’t understand that employers are more willing to give unpaid leave to their high performers.

The house is paid off. I have some money in the bank. Though maybe not enough, I need to crunch some numbers.

Just admitting to him how unhappy I am and how drained I feel has helped.

 

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