My blog isn’t a flash in a pan, I promise. Its more of a slow-roasting leg of lamb. Very. Slow. Roasting. Like a slow-burning candle. It will grow, it will follow a journey. And journeys take time, right?
Ok, I need to tell you something. I need to share. Is that ok? Can I do that? Thanks. You’re the best. The last few months have been strange. Sometimes hard, sometimes bonkers, some tears, some low moments and some high, rewarding moments. I came back to work full time at Christmas, to a job. For me, it was just a job. To earn money to keep my daughter in a lovely little pre-school, where she’s learning to read. Since she’s there, so is my son. So he can have the same priceless experiences that she has had. That has been the only reason that I have gone through this process. Its my responsibility. And now, I’m leaving this job. In four weeks. I simply can’t do it anymore. I don’t have the will, the determination or the energy. My time is precious, and so is my childrens time. And gaining some perspective on this situation was undeniably vital. Deciding to leave this job after over eight years wasn’t a difficult decision. My heart didn’t even need a split second to decide. My head did, of course, because I’m an adult. No, really. I am. Oi cheeky, I can see you raising your right eyebrow, questioning my adulthood. Leave that questioning to me and my conscience. Staying here has been making me ill. Not seriously ill, but enough to affect my life, my husbands life and my childrens lives. I lack patience. I don’t laugh. I don’t smile enough. My sense of humour has been replaced with a cynical, dark paranoia. And all because of where I work and the decisions of those greedy monkeys at the top. And thats not right, I can’t afford to carry on like this. For the sake of what? Money? Hmm, no thankyou.
And what has riled me the most, is the lack of understanding people seem to display. I think of myself as a fairly, grounded, sensible, compassionate person. Kind of naive sometimes, but not in a detrimental way. If someone has a problem they’re sharing with me, I listen and I empathise. Perhaps I ask too much of others to share the same compassion as myself, perhaps thats my downfall, but sometimes I think, it’s not too much to ask, is it? I can honestly say I have never felt so patronised by another human being until recently. I asked for help, and was turned away. ‘I’m not going to debate this with you’, I was instructed. Like you would talk to a four year old child. I’m thirty one. I don’t need to be spoken to like that. Why do you even need to speak to me like that? Their response says alot more about them than my request said about me. Power-hungry-controlling-puppet-string-pulling person. My point is, that I don’t feel like the person I think I am is reflected on the outside. Or is it that people just don’t understand or know me? Is that my fault? Do I hide away? I feel so frustrated. I can do this, I can do that. But no-one knows or no one wants to listen. ‘I had to really fight for this project for you’, I was told. ‘There were a few people who didn’t believe you could do it’. Ah, yeah, thats sweet. Hit me baby, one more time.
I’m moving on from this subject. I have totally wound myself up writing this. And its unnecessary and unhealthy for me to feel this way. Its not important, and its not going to control my life. Any. More. I am moving on, I shall not forget those people I met in this chapter. They have stayed with me through some life-changing years. And to those of you who I no longer respect. Eat. My. Dust. You will be easily forgotten.
Phew. I needed to do that. I needed to purge somewhere. Its definitely helped. Thanks ever so much for listening. I owe you.