Solitary Confinement and My Last Job

 I feel like my brain and body have given up without my explicit consent.  I haven't showered all year. It's been 2 days since I brushed my teeth. I have to brush regularly because my gums actually hurt and my teeth feel scummy. But I just got used to my body odor I guess. 

Yesterday was another frustrating day having to do with training content. The things I wish I could say - as a learner, it's an undesirable experience to have more than one voice and 86 different emails about training. In one session we had like 4 speakers provide some sort of intro. This is after the 86 emails. I get it, everything needs to be collaborative and cross-functional. But it's a crappy user experience.

And I was till navigating my new life as an agreeable employee, so I couldn't speak up. But surprise, surprise! I'm now responsible for using said training content to deliver a 4-week training.

I just don't get what the flipping issue is. Everyone in the world has received some training at some point. Why did we have to have multiple UN conventions to figure out how to create and deliver training? 

I can't find a way out. I just can't.

I realized it's been over a year now since I've engaged with another person. I don't think I'm quite a shut in because I'll make short runs to get food. But I'll be lucky if I look up or exchange more than a few words. All of a sudden, a year passes and you realize you haven't fully seen another person - breathed them in, experienced them, interacted with them. 

My eyes hurt because every waking hour (including this one at 3a) is in front of a screen of some sort. 

I've said before that I'm just waiting to die and this is the house I die in. But it's never felt more so than in this moment. 

Against my better judgment, I scoured the internal job board but just couldn't bring myself to set up another informational session. 

Am I allowed to just opt-out of the life I've been given. Despite all my best efforts, I just couldn't quite get the outcome I so desired. 

I've adapted myself out of the life I initially craved. I don't even know what it was anymore. 

Also what are my neighbors doing at 3a. The last few times I've been up and out of bed at this hour, there's been activity in the parking lot. What the heck are y'all doing - I know it's nothing nice. 

I know lots of people re-invent themselves at 40, but I don't think I'm one of them. 

So this is my last job even though I am still harboring some sliver of hope that something will fall out of the sky. Laughable. 

It seems pretty fitting. My aunt died an unremarkable death after trying so hard to live a remarkable life. I might have been her greatest achievement. My father, the same.

Why were we ever told it matters?

This is what prayer feels like to me. God, may I have some M&Ms. I stick my hand out, and I get 40 lashes. But I keep sticking my hand out, and I keep getting 40 lashes.  Sometimes though, I stick my hand out and I get M&Ms covered in dog doo.  Or sometimes, I look back and I see the M&Ms scattered alongside of the road, but I was too busy tending to the wounds from my 40 lashes to have noticed.  That's what it feels like. 

I just want to stick my hand out and get the M&Ms right after the tastiest meal, cold and crunchy and satisfying. That's it. 

So at this point, this job is just buying me time to wait out the pandemic. I gave it my all, and it just wasn't enough. My boss's words aren't enough after that basic bonus score. I can only focus on the bonus score because it's easier to focus on the negative. I want to have a bad experience so I don't have to keep feeling so disappointed. About everything - this and all else. 

I'm so sedentary these days it hurts my legs to stand up and load the dishwasher. I literally lie in bed until it's time to get up and work. Sit down to work, get back in bed to eat, then lie down again. 

I'm losing my mind because I don't talk to anyone or see anyone. I don't watch the news. I hear current events through off handed comments in office meetings. 

It's hard to care when I don't see an endpoint. 

That bonus score really crushed me and it was the inflection point I was looking for. And yes, even after gently trying to re-introduce it with my boss she stuck to her story. But the data doesn't lie. 

These outcomes are uncontrollable so I just remain adrift. It's not my favorite place to be.

I was clicking through an old post. I recently stumbled upon another FIRE blog who was very vocal about how much they hate FIRE. And how they only started to hate their job after pursuing FIRE. I started to think - did I hate work after FIRE or is it because I hate work that I started to pursue FIRE. I wanted to get on board with this new blogger. But after clicking around, I realized her posts were just click bait. It was much of the same recycled content repackaged with new catchy titles. So anyway, I clicked through one of my posts from 2018, and I've been pretty ready to leave the workforce for awhile. I've been wanting to accelerate this long, long, journey for awhile. 

I've never liked work. In high school, I found it silly to work to own a car to drive to work to pay for it. I'd rather just stay home and have my parents take care of me. Duh.

Those people who are proud to have been working since they were teens - ugh? Why can't your parents take care of you? 

Once, I had to pay for a dance camp I wanted to attend. I worked as a waitress until I saved up enough money for the camp. It was not even a second thought to quit after I had the money I needed. 

Even in professional school, a lot of other students worked to gain experience and pay for their living expenses. Instead I amassed a 6 figure debt. I mean, it was going to be 6-figure no matter what, there was no way intern work was going to amount to anything.  In my mind, why would I spend that energy working for ducats when I knew I had to work for 30 years after graduation. 

I'd always thought that was the path. That is the path typically. 

Working doesn't give me purpose. 

The only thing I can't figure out is what the heck I'm going to do after I quit work. When I quit Call Center #1, I felt completely unhinged. And even now, even with 60 hour weeks, I still have a bunch of free time that I don't know what to do with.

I fear since I'm already on this solitary confinement, shut-in path, that not much else will change no matter how many social goals I set for myself. I'm bored in the house. I literally stare at the wall or the ceiling at multiple points throughout the week, but I can't be bothered to do chores or get out of the house. 

This is what my life has come to. How did I get here?