at the front of the parking space there was a large, circular cement block with a pole that extended upwards. nobody wanted that parking space because it couldn’t be used as a pull-through spot at the end of the work day. i didn’t mind backing out — so i took it every single day. it was close to the front and nobody wanted it. nobody but me. it was open. always. left for me.
i don’t park there anymore.
toward the end, i had little things that kept me going. my jack butler shirt had become somewhat of an ongoing [inside] joke.
mostly, i turned to my garden for solace. it was a quiet place where i could go; full of tranquility & beauty. i felt proud that i had put so much work into it all and it was growing. i would spend my mornings outside listening to life around me and watering living plants. it kept me from crying. . . .most mornings. i felt horribly depressed and unfulfilled because my job was monotonous– and there, in the office, my talents were useless.
paper pusher.
i wanted to quit for four years. four miserable years. i never did hit seven with the company but i was close enough — so it’d be safe to say that i spent four of seven years wanting out. before that time, the thought of staying home absolutely disgusted me. i was independent and could take care of myself and i looked at ‘stay-at-home mothers’ as weak & unmotivated. i didn’t want to be a ‘stay-at-home mom’ per say. i wanted to be more involved with the kids; stop relying on family and friends to do all of the transportation to and from school and stop stressing about babysitters and daycare. and more than that, i wanted to create. create artwork & crafts and see where these unused talents could take me. continuously working in a place i dreaded was wearing on me in every way imaginable. i was full of bitterness and cynicism.
i woke up one morning and got ready. it was so hard to get out of bed & put a face on to go into a place where i spent so much of my time but did not at all want to be. i wearily headed down the long staircase and toward the back door, where i would find the garden. nick had already watered the plants that day. he was trying to help me out. only. . . .it was all i could do to hold back the flood of tears– hot-faced & stinging in my eyes. because i wasn’t going to have that peace of mind before heading off to the job i hated. tears over watering the garden– seriously?? this was the breaking point for me. i was so tired. physically tired, but also tired of crying and dragging myself into the office everyday with a negative disposition. mentally & emotionally, i was drained and could not take any more. i hated everyone in the office & it wasn’t their fault. i couldn’t stand the sight or mannerisms of my boss or half of the people i worked with and it was merely because i hated the job for so long, not the people. i used to love the people.
it was that day. i gave my notice that day.
and i felt so strange afterward. a weight had been lifted off. for the past year, i had contemplated what this ‘me leaving my job scenario’ would really look like & now it was here. . . .the real scenario. i was really leaving my job. and although i had spent hours upon hours already doing this. . . .i began to think more about what things would look like once i was no longer there. for roughly a week, i panicked and felt that i had made the biggest mistake of my life. i felt a rush of unfamiliarity take over. a huge change. a new sort of life. during that month wait & even on my last day, it never really hit me. i knew i was leaving but i also knew that i wouldn’t know what to fully expect until life at home had actually started. it was difficult to anticipate what it would be like or how exactly i would feel. i had worked for such a large portion of my life.
eight days in to this new ‘job’ and i’m still adjusting. weekends are strange because sunday nights still feel like sunday nights. . . .the nights where we need to make sure everything is in order for the week and i feel a bit frazzled about going back to work the next day. mondays are better. i used to hate mondays. they were my grouchy days. and now, less pressure to feel those case of the mondays type of days. when i used to think about leaving work for good, i thought that it would be this grandiose sort of adventure and i would be so very boastful about it all. instead, i left kind of quietly, without the retirement party following [as i had originally planned for] & am feeling these days incredibly humbled by it all and more grateful for this opportunity than i could ever explain.
fast forward to now — you can continue reading a lot more here in this post about rigby eleanor and my current happenings as a ‘stay at home artist/crafter/jackbutler/mom/something.’
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