One of my greatest joys is a job well done, even something as simple as a needed email or inputting a transaction correctly. I recently realized this is likely because growing up I could rarely, if ever, please my parents.
Today I am in a job that I love in a company that severely understaffs my department because we don’t produce revenue. Alas, they forget the fact that we are a large part of risk management. On top of working too many hours, I have two cases that are particularly triggering for me right now. They are reminders of past trauma. I am holding onto the cliff edge with one finger in this situation, so it seems. It has taken me a while to admit I need to look for another job. I like the job I have, but I have to finally admit it is not going to get any better. In fact, the understaffing situation is full of risk because there is a greater chance that something important will be accidentally overlooked. Oh wait, that already happened.
I have cried from the stress more days than not this past week. I am left with this feeling of abject hopelessness. Over and over again I go back to this fear of homelessness and joblessness. I’ll be wiping down a counter at home, and just suddenly burst into tears. This fear takes residence within me, and intermittently goes dormant and then springs to life.
I want to contribute meaningfully at a job in which success is possible. Success is not currently possible in my current situation, and though I work with lovely folks that does not change the impossible workload.
My life feels like it has become truncated. I need to find a way to feel hopeful again.
Inexplicably, for years there have been moments when a particular face from the far off past will appear in the crevices of my memory for no apparent reason. I would just see his face in a flash. No explanation as to why, and I have no ill memories of this person. But, recently the flashes have become more frequent. I did this complicated web search in an effort to retrieve his last name because it was lost to my memory. I had lived next door to his sister in the early 90’s. She was an accountant, but I couldn’t remember her last name either. I threw her first name, the word “accountant” and the city where we lived, and surprisingly got few hits. I recalled her last name was unusual, and recognized it as soon as I saw it. Then I did a Facebook search and found her profile along with her brother as a Friend on her profile. With my DID, the way I figure out if people from my past are safe is to look at their picture and listen to my system. If there is unrest, the person is likely bad news. This is especially helpful when I know someone is from my past, but don’t remember them.
As soon as I saw his picture I knew my system didn’t like him. My stomach flipped, and I felt myself hold my breath for a second. A cascade of disconcerting feelings came over me. I lost my grounding and floated away for a bit. I know something, and I know nothing.
My life has changed tremendously since I last blogged. I married my lovely wife in May, and I’ve moved to a different part of the country so that we can live together. The hardest part has been quitting a job, a job I loved, that was in a toxic place. So here I sit in Starbucks in a new city with no job. Of my own accord I quit my job to be with my wife. It’s wonderful sharing daily life with her, rather than one of us getting on an airplane every month, sometimes twice a month, to be together.
Though it is stunning to voluntarily place myself among the unemployed. I didn’t plan it this way. I’ve been actively applying for jobs since May, yet this is where I am. It’s rather humbling, and scary. For many years, my identity was wrapped up in my career. I stayed at terrible places for a multitude of reasons: too scared to leave, cared too much about my cases or people I worked with, resignation that nothing out there was better, etc. It was sobering to realize that my place of employment was not worth the suffering.
Even with the disastrous workplace that it was, it was still hard to leave. In any work environment, there are always good people to be found. I will miss the gals I worked with, and the accidental mentors that materialized for me.
Who knows what comes next for me. It could be something completely different. I’ll try to be open to it, and not let my trauma history take over my actions and mind-set. Sending out a prayer to the universe that work will come my way when my bank account needs it.