Baring my soul, and why THIS job didn’t work out for me.
Posted: 02.24.12 Filed under: Uncategorized 7 Comments »Oh yes, friends and neighbors, if you’re counting, and I stopped awhile ago, that’s roughly the fifth or sixth job in a row where I just couldn’t hack it (although the job before this last one doesn’t count because it was school that I couldn’t hack, not the job itself). The sucky part about leaving this job, though, is that I was mentally ready for this job. I didn’t have panic attacks or go home crying (not from emotional distress, anyway). I fit in well. I learned the job really quickly–after the first day, I was basically flitting around on my own, doing very well if I do say so myself (and my manager would back me up on this), only having to bug other people to find out where things were. I didn’t feel anxious or stressed about being there, and that’s probably why I lasted as long as I did.
Did you know that if you spend five years sitting down, then try to stand on your feet for five hours on hard tile, your body will be in crippling pain before the day is halfway over?
I don’t mean like, feet aching whiny pain. No, this was literally-cannot-continue-to-stand-up pain, which was getting worse by the day instead of better as I got used to it. I was popping more and more Aleve with less and less effect. On the last day that I worked there, I spent the last two hours of my shift mostly sitting; I would try to get up and chop things, and I could stand for maybe two minutes. So I would sit down for another ten minutes, and do it all over again. I cried on the way home. The next day, I talked to my manager, and we agreed it wasn’t working. They needed someone who could stand for a full shift and do work. I didn’t want to steal their time and money sitting down when I was supposed to be working.
My heart broke, because I really wanted this job. It seems stupid to really want a job in a grocery store, but . . . . it clicked so well. Everything fell into place beautifully in my mind. And I loved being in the big kitchen, I loved serving customers. I keep having dreams about going back into work, and in my dreams I haven’t really quit–or maybe I think they haven’t noticed I quit–but there’s a disturbed undercurrent that plucks at my heartstrings while I sleep. Because I know I can’t do it and I know it’s too late, it’s gone–the flowing water has not stopped for me; it has passed on and I wasn’t ready for it.
I feel like I’m drowning in it.
The solution seems easy but my brain just won’t wrap around it; I can look for a job where I don’t have to stand, and I can start building my strength back up, it’s not that hard, it’s really not so hard. Any sense of normalcy seems so far away, though. The stupid Asperger’s, it’s so stupid sometimes–all I feel like doing is curling up in a little cocoon and never coming back out, giving into the autistic parts of my brain and burrowing down forever. Slipping away from everything is the easiest thing in the world for me; I like being wrapped up in myself, I prefer it by nature and coming out again is the hardest thing. I’m going to miss my life if I don’t figure out how to be alive again, but it’s so nice in my little black velvet cocoon that the little ember inside me can’t seem to compete with the desire to stay snuggled in.
I’m tired of treading water to stay afloat, I’m so tired.
I’m so tired.
My first job was working construction for my father. After that when I saw questions on an application such as, “Can you lift 50 pounds” and “Can you stand for eight hours at a time” I thought they must obviously be trying to weed out the handicapped. What average person can’t stay on their feet for 8 hours? I’ve since learned that the answer is anyone who is more used to sitting for those hours. After being unemployed for a few years it amazes me how much simple exercises would wear me out when I finally found a job. Luckily it was one where I didn’t have to stand all the time but there was occasional lifting and walking up stairs and standing. All of which made me feel like I was on par with an 80 year old heart transplant patient. Of course, not giving up is the key. Working yourself a little harder today than you did yesterday is what it takes. I know, that’s not what you need to hear right now, but its the truth. Life isn’t determined by what you can and can’t do. Its determined by what you let defeat you.
I just feel fucked up and broken. It wasn’t a matter of being tired or worn out.. I could have worked through that.
Sad but true. I usually feel the same, especially after seeing it could have worked out well. Hope your spirits feel lifted more each day. Don’t know what else to say. But I will be thinking of you frequently & send good thoughts your way.. Teresa
i am so sorry this has happened to you. i have a set of physical conditions which seriously restrict what i could do in the way of work, but i do miss it, so i share your frustration.
if there is no structural damage or condition creating this pain, then i think you do have some options. first of all, i think tai chi or chi gung would help. secondly, graded, paced exercise. to include tolerance of standing. the way to do pacing is to work out what you can do comfortably, say it’s standing for three half hour sessions a day, for example. then you take it down a bit, say to two twenty minute stands a day and then do that for a week. at the end of the week take it up to three or add another five minutes. i don’t know what you could do while standing – something useful or pleasant – chopping veg or going to a gallery and staring at paintings.
within about three or four weeks, assuming there is no arthritis or other condition causing the pain, you should be able to stand for an amount of time that would be ok with an employer – even if it involves saying ‘yes, i can stand for 8 hours, but i have to take three twenty minute breaks where i lie down’ – this is probably something they can work with, and if it is a true record of what you can manage then you will be able to continue to do it and work at any job that requires it.
I don’t have anything insightful about the pain – I’m lucky enough to work a job where I’m sedentary most of the time, because if I had to go back and work my standing-all-the-time job I think I’d probably die, I remember the pain I’d be in at the end of those shifts – but I have been (and, on and off, will probably always be) in the exhausted place where you are now. Just one of the fun things about my depression, which I really need to blog about one of these days but I keep putting it off because it’s easier to blog about fun things than painful ones.
You’re not broken. It’s just this one thing. This one thing that wasn’t right for you. Something else will come, and it will be the perfect fit, or it won’t, but it will get you back out there, and you’ll be a little less tired, and a little less, until you’re awake again.
I’m so sorry. And you’re wonderful, and I adore you. Please talk to me if you need to. Even just to vent. Or to yell “SCREW THIS!” if you need. I can take yelling.
Yeah, my advice was for the mental aspect, not the physical. The physical is relatively easy compared to the mental toll it takes.
Hey Susie, at least you DID IT! Maybe it didn’t last for as long as you might have wanted it to, but the way you have described your condition over the past few years, this sounds like a HUGE step forward, so don’t get too discouraged by this setback. Of course failure sucks and feels like shit, but success and winning is about getting back up once you’ve recovered and trying again. And again. And again. I am so happy to hear that you made it as far as you did, and it was only this physical thing that tripped you up this time. In fact, I was just yesterday going to send you a note asking how the new job is going.
Last Sunday we did our first performance of 2012, our residency at the Beverly Hills Farmers’ Market, which means (at least for me), standing for about three hours straight on asphalt. I was wearing a favorite pair of old leather soled boots with 2” heels that fits like cozy, well-broken-in slippers, but I was still achey even two days later, and I do this all the time. Believe me, when I play 3- or 4-hour corporate gigs in strappy stiletto heels I am ready to cry by the 3rd set, so I cannot imagine the agony you must be in having to stand for 5-8 hours on hard floors!! Why in the hell don’t they have padding on the floors like they do at the cashier stands and behind the meat/fish/juice counters at Whole Foods, which would help at least somewhat?! (Or is that a stupid question??)
The advice from other commenters on how to build your endurance is good, and you’ll sure need physical stamina when you open your ice cream shop since you’ll be working crazy-hard for much longer than 8-hour shifts when you have your own business. Keep that goal in sight and don’t give up!