Baring my soul, and why THIS job didn’t work out for me.Posted: 02.24.12
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.