For the past 13 years I have felt the same way. Deep in my stomach, this bubbling fear rises and turns into nausea. Sometimes I despise my job, especially the way it makes me feel, mostly unappreciated, mostly ignored, mostly small and insignificant. But despite it all, there are moments of joy, moments of clarity, and I know I would never quit, there is no other life for me. Anything else would be easy, anything else would not be work.
I imagine that someone out there enjoys his job, comes home from that job and leaves all of it at work, takes nothing into his home, his life. And in his home, he enjoys life, he enjoys family, and he is happy. There must be someone like that, right? Then I realize it's not that the man has a perfect life, it is only that he is content with the life he has, and I am content with my life. I don't regret anything I've done, and as for what I've left undone, it's just never been the right time. I just go about my life and do my job to the best of my ability, and when my job is done, well my job is never done, but when the day is over, I go home and I read or I watch some tv, and then sleep and wake and do it again.
Looking at it like that does make me feel a little depressed about my life. But I'll get over it, I always do.
No comments:
Post a Comment