Flaming Truths.

more on adulting.

Full transparency: I quit my job today. And while not the first time, this time is different. Firstly, because I jumped out of the plane with more than one parachute. We’ll call it a safety precaution. But also because I actually chose me before it was the only choice I had. I understand the slogan, there’s going to be something at every place you work that you don’t like. But if it feels like force-feeding myself an elixir of poison, you bet your tits I’m walking away.

I didn’t even last a month. And not because I couldn’t, not because it was too hard, or I’m a quitter. But because I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve to wake up sad and anxious about something that already takes up 3/4 of my life against my will. A bit more honesty from me: I hated this job (that I was excited about for months) so much that I cried at the idea clocking into that establishment this morning. And if you know me, you know my eyes go through worse droughts than California. Drawing tears from me is like drawing blood from a warrior in battle. It’s a big fucking no-no. So much so, that my mother has me on some kind of pseudo suicide watch, as she’s still in shock about my momentary-accidental eye leakage this morning. Can somebody please call her so she can stop checking in?

aw, impulsive little sagittarius…

So with the last two fucking pieces of dignity I have left, I flipped a coin. (yes, dipshit, I said I still have dignity left.) Heads I stay, tails I go. What do you know, it was tails. And another flip. Heads I leave now, tails I stay the day. Heads.

I was made extremely anxious everyday; yet, the thought of pulling the plug scared me too. So I let the fates decide. And the needle pointed towards peace. Though a rash and impulsive decision to make at 9am, I covered my bases and I’m safe. While I look for a new job, I still know how my bills will be paid. I know at least the basis of what I’m going to do, while still having a few other tricks up my sleeve. If a little spilled milk is supposed to stop me, we’re going to need a bigger puddle.

yay, you quit your job. what, you want us to pop confetti?

I don’t give a fuck what you do with the information, actually, numb-skull. Write it on your toilet tissue and wipe your ass with it, for all I care. For me, leaping out of my little metaphorical planes is usually in the name of self care and preservation. Not ignoring my nervous system is an accomplishment to me. Maybe you’re so tightly-wound and not happy for me and mine, because yours is blaring and you’re deaf.

I got to play Roblox with my baby sister for the first time today. She has been on my ass about it since about the time I started that job. And so paralyzed in work mode, then thinking about work mode, then working-on-me-for-me mode; I just kept putting her off. I did house work with a fucking smile on my face. I ate a fucking meal before 6pm…..All this from a little reset of my nervous system.

Hitting send on, like, a 3 sentence email, lifted an entire elephant off of my chest. It may be the little freedom-laced dopamine hit I got from it, but I feel good. I feel better.

And to think there was a time I’d only dream of reacting like this, while suffering in silence. Never again.

Oh well, stay tuned to see what happens on the next episode of “Is this bitch even real?”

talk soon.