The last week has kind of sucked, I’ve been sick. I took three days off work and have been in late for two other days.
It’s weird that this illness struck me right before I turn in my res1gnation. I started feeling sick last week, on Tuesday. The cold has run its course, but a respiratory infection took its place. No telling when that will end.
This Tuesday, I came back to work from sick leave and found my manager’s manager has scheduled a weekly meeting where he and an HR rep review my weekly activity report. Note, the weekly activity report (WAR) was a consequence of my “needs improvement” performance review from last year. It’s telling, that this manager wants HR to be present when he goes over the WAR with me. My three signed resignation letters are on my desk, ready to go, and I itch to simply drop them off. One for my manager, one for manager’s manager, and one for HR. Only a day left until I can do so. I wonder if they’ll still want to do the WAR review with HR if I’m resigning.
Not much longer that I have to come in here. I have to remind myself. Though I can’t wait to be out of here, I feel heavy-hearted. Mainly, at the loss of this place. It’s not a bad place to work. The company does and has done a lot for me. I’m just not suited to 9-5 work anymore.
What a entitled, ridiculous thing to say: not suited to 9-5 work. It’s deceptive, too. There’s a lot I’m not saying when I say I’m “not suited” to full time employment. I’m not talking about the huge increase in my social anxiety that’s happened over the last two years. The anxiety that makes me more and more reclusive, more and more unwilling to talk to others. The anxiety that poisons every interaction, that leads to oversharing when I do want to talk to others, leading to feelings of humiliation, leading to more anxiety. In a fatalistic way, I’m glad I’m going to be spending much of my time at home. It’s for the best. Fewer people to exist around. Fewer opportunities to feel inadequate.
I’m also not talking about the growing apathy towards my career field. The only feelings of accomplishment I get anymore come from doing housework or playing video games. Everything I do at work is frustrating and far from straight-forward. There is no sense of satisfaction anymore, doing the work that I do. Maybe that feeling will return one day, during my time off from working. I can start slow, learning more about Python and Django, which I worked with during my greatest period of success at the company. I’d love to feel some passion towards a programming project again.
When I think about not working, I feel immediate relief. Like I don’t have to pretend anymore. That I’m some high-power high-earning female. Deep down, I know I’m just a little woman with delusions of grandeur. Delusions of intellect and self-sufficiency. Other people have always been trying to show me my place. Subtly and outright. And the pressure has finally gotten to me, worn me down over years like wind and water does to stone. Look, world, you win. I’m not going to be more than what I seem. I’ll just be what you think I should be. Then maybe I’ll be accepted.
Yes. To stay home, safe and sound, away from the judgemental eyes of others. Safe from the bland, mediocre cruelty of everyday people. Away from dismissive, derisive, unconsciously and consciously over-competitive interactions. Everybody thinks everybody else wants to topple them from their tier in the hierarchy. I want to be treated like there are no levels. Just flat ground, where everyone makes an attempt to see eye-to-eye. I don’t want to bow, but I don’t want to loom over anyone either. I don’t feel suited to this world at times.
Better to focus on what I’ll be doing at home. I’ll decompress. I’ll work on building some sort of daily routine, rather than the haphazard “I’ll do it if I feel like it” thing I have now. I’ll lose my sense of alienation and despair in drawing and writing; my graphic novel will have time to be born now. I’ll be house-proud, fixing up the outside and keeping the inside tidy. I’ll take time to rekindle a love of programming. I’ll do what I want, when I want, but responsibly. A little bit of spontaneity and impulsiveness, to add spice to life. That’s my hope at least.