The Bloody Doors Off

What the fuck am I even doing here?

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Graphic designer, playwright, occasional asshole

The more things change

I used to think I could just adapt, go with the flow. Lately, it’s been the opposite, and I don’t know why. I get my back up, my anxiety kicks in, legs go akimbo. It sucks.

I’m beginning to wonder if I’m suited for this line of work. And then I realize, yes I’m good at what I do; just not happy with the hours. I put in close to 10 years on midnights. It contributed to the death of a relationship, my insomnia, depression and type 2 diabetes. And being the new guy on contract, I don’t have the bargaining power to work the hours I need. (Yes, not ‘want’, ‘need’.) I want a life; to enjoy the evenings (I’m no longer a night owl) and fall asleep under the moon. And the hours right now are all over the map: yesterday I worked the late shift, tonight I’m here until midnight and tomorrow I’m back to the 1-9:30pm shift. But towards the end of the month, when 2 people are on vacation, I’m working 1-10:30pm. Can only hope September gets better, because my health (mental and physical) should be more important than pulling a paycheque but I can’t afford to eat on hope. And I’m still not set up on self-employment EI because my accountant is not on top of things. And given I never know when I’m going to be bloody awake, it makes it hard for me to connect with him. (And it’d take a solid year of working contract and contributing before I’d qualify.)

There’s too much to do, and no time to do it.

That’s nothing new.

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One response to “The more things change”

  1. Harold Avatar
    Harold

    Have you ever head the song “It’s never too late” by Steppenwolf? Probably not, as its old, not great, and not completely relevant here either …. but heading back to the small point of this rambly missive, here is an excerpt of the lyrics below.

    Your eyes are moist, you scream and shout
    As though you were a man possessed
    From deep inside comes rushing forth
    All the anguish you suppressed
    Up on your wall hangs your degree
    Your parents craved so much for you
    And though you’re trained to make your mark
    You still don’t quite know what to do

    It’s never too late to start all over again
    To love the people you caused the pain
    And help them learn your name
    Oh, no, not too late
    It’s never too late to start all over again

    None of us know completely what to do or how to do it. Many of us have deep pools of angst and sadness inside, that we hope to hell don’t get punctured or ruptured, lest they come spilling out all over the place like a tailings pond burst. So on that note, I would just simply say keep doing your best, or would cite Churchill’s “if you’re going through hell, keep going”. I hope that you get or find some more balance, as distressed sleep cycles can make many awkward things even worse … yet I am not only hopeful but optimistic and confident about your capabilities and your character. Do your best. Remember that “courage does not always roar” … and get some earplugs and a sleeping mask to try to bring sleep a bit faster, deeper etc. You’re OK. Do your best and be proud of it.

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