It’s happening again. And I’m angry. And tired.
Tired of this crippling anxiety that has me chained to this bed, threatening to derail my life again. I can’t afford to lose this job, not another one. But I can’t afford to go in either. This anxiety won’t let me.
I feel unsafe, and the only way to feel safe again is to quit. It’s the same story each time. I’ll quit, feel some relief, but then spend the next few days beating myself up about quitting. The same damn cycle each time. I know what’s coming: the self-loathing, the self-punishment.
I’ll convince myself I’m not hungry, or that I don’t deserve food. I don’t deserve to be happy because look what I did. I’m ruining my life again, and it’s all my fault.
At least that is what my brain is telling me. All of those nasty self critical, anxiety ridden thoughts. My brain can be cruel sometimes.
Finally my voice of reason will come in and remind me that maybe this is something I needed to do, because I was becoming unhappy at work. I remind myself that the work environment was becoming uncomfortable. It was getting to be too hot, too stressful, and just too much in general.
I know it’s going to be hard. Finding another job is not going to be easy. But it is worth trying again and finding something that works better. A schedule that it is easier on me. A place that pays better, is more rewarding, and has air conditioning. All of these things will be better for me in the long run. So no matter how hard it might seem, know that in the end it is going to be okay and that maybe this actually was the best option for right now.