I need to quit my job, sooner rather than later. As soon as Girlchild has a new abode and I can finish the last sprucing-up of this joint, the sign goes in the yard and I am getting out of this insanity. Without going into too much detail, though my own boss understands I tire easily and doesn't expect me to put in overtime, I have been volunteered for various things that involve evening meetings an hour away, and I was not volunteered for this by my own boss.
And tonight as I was leaving the office I received an email (not from my boss) ordering me to attend a Mandatory! meeting that is over an hour away and starts after 7 p.m., on a mid-week evening. So I'd get home very late and have to get up at 5 the next day.
At first I was upset, and called my son and left him a ranting voicemail. Then I went to the gym and spent an hour working out while listening to high energy stuff like Aerosmith and Van Halen, and came home in a far better frame of mind.
I am not going to let this bother me. I am going to Just Say No. What are they going to do, fire me? Bring it. I truly, honestly, deeply do not care. Yes, it would be inconvenient to have to find some sort of temporary job until the house sells, but I could do it.
And this is the frustration of being me right now. I look like me, I sound like me, in some ways I think I am a better me, really. But I get tired in a different way now. My attention span and memory are different. My job is as crazy and complex and stressful as it ever was, but my energy for dealing with it is different. But because I do not look or sound "brain damaged," few people really understand that I am not making it up when I say I'm different and that I have to take care of myself and things aren't so easy for me now, AND I'm not willing to risk my health for this crap.
Because when you don't have the luxury of taking it easy and have to force yourself to do things that a lot of people wouldn't have to do, like go back to the job you were taken out of on a stretcher half-dead, you don't actually get much credit for working your ass off to cope. It's surprising, really, but I guess not. I think my collapsing in the office was an embarrassing and uncomfortable thing that they'd just as soon put behind them, as if I'd farted in a meeting. As far as they are concerned, I'm back, it's fine, it's all forgotten. Because I don't put my head down on my desk and cry with exhaustion and frustration, though I want to on a regular basis, I'm "back to normal," and again able to juggle a hundred complicated unrelated tasks and bail out the people who can't do their jobs, and show up for meetings that will get me home after 11 p.m.
I have news for them. I'm not doing it. Surviving a ruptured brain aneurysm, like rank, doth have its privileges - privileges I am calling for myself, because I don't want to die for this fucking job. I go to sleep at 9:30 if I have to get up and work the next day, and on weekends too unless I have something more fun to do. This is sacred. This is what I have to do to keep doing this crazy shit I have to do to pay the mortgage on the house I'm trying to get rid of. I cannot and will not push myself beyond my reasonable limits. I am resigning from these boards I was appointed to without my consent, and if that is an issue, I'm resigning, period. Their choice.
Counting down to vacation - I really can't wait. Still knitting Red Scarf Scarf #2. Not much time to knit. Still trying to decide on a sweater project. I'm thinking that I may go nuts and do that Reeds and Grasses kimono. Just because I feel like making a statement.