by Jane Moneypenny

There are some days (okay, most) that I really hate this job to my core. I knew it was going to be hard when I took this job, but this is pushing my every last bit of patience and soul. My boss got fired (not laid-off) a month ago, I’m still feeling like a producing hound and having to see Mr. Co-worker every day doesn’t help (although we’ve seen to established an ability to act like the other doesn’t exist). On top of that, the girls that I once trusted here seem to have lost their minds and abandoned and outcasted me.

But the economy is bad so I have to be grateful I have this job and a source of income. I feel guilty even thinking these hateful and negative thoughts, but it consumes me day in and day out. Would I have been happy if I had taken the other job in New Orleans? Maybe, but maybe not. There’s no way to ever know and it’s pointless to ever ask that.

It’s been 6 months and it’s been hard. So hard. There are moments or short-lived days where I feel happy, satisfaction and pride that I’ve come this far. But the majority of the time, I’m just drained from having to keep pushing forward with this much energy. I don’t really know how else to do it. If I just sit back and wait for life to happen, I go against every “life” rule of “fighting for what you want.” If I keep going at the rate I’m going, I’m destined for a complete shutdown (which is already happening). People keeps saying, “Give it time. It takes at least a year to feel IT when you move and make such a life change.” 

I long ago stopped believing that “things happen for a reason.” Nowadays, I just feel like “Crap happens. Random. Bad luck.”

Apparently I need to learn patience.