So it’s been awhile.
There was grading and headaches and a cold and the second job and a shitty mood and oh oh oh so much anxiety about. . . grading and headaches and a cold and the second job and a shitty mood. . . and you can see where this goes.
I was twisting the screw of the vice grips.
C. helped me untwist it and, without a recap of that conversation in which I went over and over what was wrong I can tell you that she said, patiently and firmly and repeatedly: You have to quit that job.
And so I quit that job—well, put in my notice; I’m done at the end of May.
It took almost two days after for me to unwind, for my chest to stopped feeling squeezed and for me to take a breath without having to remind myself to breathe.
It was the right decision, although I feel badly about it; I feel badly about it, although it was the right decision.
It just wasn’t the right job.
AbsurdBeats 