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for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction
I am kinda freaking out right now because I kinda quit my job. Just 3 months shy of ten years I would have worked there. Of course I didn't do anything mature like actually tell anyone I quit, but I didn't show up today.
I could probably get away with still having my job. The last time I did a no-call no-show, the next day I showed up and got a raise. Seriously. That is how horrible my job is and how desperate they are to keep people. But I don't want to go down that road again.
Every week I get stuck in a loop saying I can't do that job anymore. Not mentally, not physically. Mentally, a trained monkey could clean hotel rooms, but physically, it's wrong to abuse animals like that so they use humans. Anyone who does housekeeping for any length of time ends up with physical problems. Foot surgery, hand surgery, back issues.
I barely slept last night. I rarely sleep well on Saturdays. I felt like I was sweating out toxic shit from my pores. Tossing. Turning. Worried about how awful today at work would be. My hand hurts already. My foot, too. Last Sunday I just sat on beds staring at the ugly wallpaper and wondering what I was going to do, because I sure as hell can't do that job anymore. Everyone got mad at me because I didn't pull my share of the workload. How I didn't just walk out, I don't know.
Yesterday my husband and I had an argument before work. What passes for one of our arguments, anyway. I don't think he is capable of raising his voice. But, it's the same argument we have almost every week where he tells me to quit and I say that we need money coming in and I should find another job first but I don't know how I can make it through another week at such a shit job.
One of his favorite lines is “There are more important things than money.” Yes, it's unbelievably sweet, and yes, it's true, but it still freaks me out when there are money issues.
The thing is, no one ever says “I want to be a housekeeper when I grow up.” It's a joke we say around this house. Like those old public service messages to keep people from trying heroin in the 90s. I took the job cleaning when my husband got fired from his optician job and ended up going on disability for schizophrenia and seizure disorder. It was supposed to be temporary. I was supposed to go get another job cashiering or even getting an associate degree or something, but the minute I started working there, I became a drunk.
I never drank before I had this shit job. I did lots of hallucinogens, but I always considered booze a hard drug and I never wanted to mess with the hard stuff.
So now what? Will I finally be able to keep my drinking to special occasions? Will I end up having to move into my parents old house? Will I find a career and do something meaningful with my life? Will I get some money and get to disappear like I've always wanted?
I have about two months worth of money in the bank. I should be able to find some awful shit job in two months, right? I have a car now...the Vishnu Cruiser. I named it that because it's a dark blue Toyota from 1995. It was my parent's car, but no one wanted it except me. I don't usually name inanimate objects, but just like it's bad luck to sail an un-named boat, I usually am more comfortable naming my cars. The point is, I am not limited to a building I can walk to in the winter. I live in Minnesota. It's almost impossible to get around in the winter here.
My parents had some money. My youngest brother is executor to their estate, and he told me that he is going to start going to the banks this week and splitting up their money between him and me and my other 2 brothers.
My mom and dad always helped us out when we needed money. And they still are. I want to put out my poetry book. Finish my novella and publish that as well. Not the old zine/ chapbook stuff I've done in the past, but real honest bound publication. I don't expect to sell many or make a living off it, but it's something I need to do.
When my mom died we all found out she had been working on a children's book. It's sad, the things we plan to do, but never do for whatever reason.
And I want to invest some of it and make it grow into more money. Not a lot. Buy stock in a company I can believe in, even though I know the stock market is a huge risk. Maybe just a CD or something.
And I want to fix up this house so we can resell it for a profit and get land. It's what I've always wanted, deep down. Grandma's house in the woods. Only now I'd take land just about anywhere, even the desert, as long as I can't see anyone for miles and miles around. Always wanted to be a farmer. Maybe it's silly, but I really think we can do it.
And in the meantime I want to be able to have energy to do my art. The longer I've worked at my shit job the less I do anything creative. I used to make something every single day. Every day. I used to constantly be inspired and have the motivation and energy to create something. A poem, a drawing, a painting, clothes, photography. Now months go by and and I do nothing.
I'm freaking out, but I am excited too because I need this. It's totally irresponsible, yes. But we've always made it though before, somehow. I have to have faith in something, so why not in myself?
I had to stay at my parent's house with my middle brother on my last visit for my dad's service. He was such a downer. He kept saying that I was creative and “full” like mom and dad and he was just “empty” and had nothing in his life. That all he did was work. He was depressed about it. So I asked him what he wanted to do, and he said he didn't know. I said how can you not have something in life that you want to do?
It's surprising how many people in the world don't need their life to have meaning. Or, wish their lives had meaning, but don't do anything about it. I can't believe I'm related to one of those people.
I am not going to be one of those people. I'd rather be dead.
10:32 AM - Sunday, Mar. 04, 2018
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