Some days I'm just sick of doing other people's work for them.
Some days I'm just sick of being the one with all the answers - or, at least, the one from whom real answers are expected, while others skate by full of crap.
Some days I'm just sick of having to answer to people who control what I do yet don't understand it.
Some days I'm just sick of a 45-minute commute each way.
Some days I'm sick of the alarm clock going off at 5:30 in the morning - okay, who am I kidding, that's every day.
There are days when I just want to quit and walk away from responsibility. Days when I think it would be better for my mental health if I just quit my job and moved somewhere else, somewhere simpler, where life is easier.
Ever have those days? The ones where you just want to say fuck it, what's the point? Why bother? Ever think if you would be missed should you choose not to fulfill an obligation? Would the world end? Or would no one notice?
I'm not talking about depression - I'm not depressed. Stressed perhaps (okay, no perhaps), but not depressed.
But there are days - and there seem to be more of them lately, and more often than not - when I really want to step back and ask myself what am I doing all of this for? What am I accomplishing? What's the goal?
Sure, there's the obvious. I need to go to work so I can pay for the mortgage, so Wifey and I have a place to live, a roof to put over the heads of our kids. So we can pay for the food jaunts all over town we do enjoy. So we can pay for electricity, gas, and water for the home; gas and insurance for the car; the cost of cable, internet, and cell phones. Occasionally we might want a new toy or clothes.
That's the simple answer.
Ten - heck, four or five - years ago I would have told you that's enough, but I don't think it is anymore. I used to shrug when people talked about enrichment and fulfillment from their work. To me work has always been the paycheck that allows me to look elsewhere for the enrichment and fulfillment. It allows me to explore the world, to take a trip, to try the food, to have a little fun.
Maybe this is a product of getting older. Maybe it's values changing and I'm no longer satisfied with just putting in the hours at a job where there are few thank yous and little respect given (or, in my case, two jobs - yay me). It seems that more and more lately the concept of respect and acknowledgement for quality produced has been lost, instead replaced with the request more and more be done with less.
Global business acknowledged the recession with a need to cut costs by shedding jobs, but instead believes the answer lies in producing more with less, even if it's unrealistic because workers were taxed at full production before the cuts. And yes, I'm being deliberately vague; the who and the what aren't important here, because it's not a situation unique to me, my place of work, my industry, or my locale.
Now I find myself thinking at least once a day about what could I do without. What would I have to give up if I walked away?
No, I won't do it. It would be absolutely fiscally irresponsible of me and unfair to everyone else in my life, but perhaps it's enough that I can simply acknowledge the desire for change in a healthy way. Well, that assumes putting these thoughts out there for just anyone to see on the internet is healthy - that in itself might not be.
Still, it's something I think about. After all, there are plenty who are happy with less, you know? Happy with less home, with less things, with less constraints on life.
I miss college, actually. Or, more accurately, the responsibility level of when I was in college - I don't miss homework and hangovers. It was the last time I really had little responsibility. I remember a conversation I had with a couple of my housemates back then about this very subject where we talked about the balance of time and money, and the needs and availability of both during college years and after, when we would each have jobs and be on our own separate life paths, only intersecting occasionally. In all honesty we probably thought they would intersect more than they do, but c'est la vie, you know? That's life. It happens.
We grow up, we move on, and we seem to only gather more and more responsibility as life goes on.
What would I do if I walked away? Who knows. Maybe then I could find enough time to write my novel. :)
Anyone else ever feel like saying screw it and making a major change? Anyone actually done it? Do you regret it at all, or was it the right decision?
Perhaps, just perhaps, by my making this acknowledgement it could a simple first step. Or maybe I just need to vent.