I feel like I'm turning into a kook in all meanings of the word. I should probably google that shit but guess what? I just don't give a fuck.
I'm unhappy and extra un-thrilled about my new job. I work way too much overtime and it's completely uncompensated. This overtime means that my hours in the day are never fucking known. I I never know when I'm going to be released from prison on any individual day. It gets close to 5 and I'm all like, SWEET time to go the fuck home! Then 5 minutes to 5 all hell breaks loose and everything seems to be needed yesterday. Subsequently that dream of leaving at 5 gets popped like a ranky old helium balloon. No big *POP* just a slow leaking stink hole.
I hate not knowing when I get to go home. It could be 6....7....8. There's no end to how late I have to work seemingly everyfuckingday. I draw houses for fucksake. Seriously. Does someone need a goddamn drawing at 8pm on a weeknight?
What does this all mean? My cycling suffers first as always. My anxiety is heightened along with it. It's one thing when I'm on my bike and riding home before 5:30, arriving home around 6:30 and having time to unpack, repack, shower, cook dinner, clean the weasels room and maybe chill out for a few minutes. As soon as I'm leaving at say 6 or 7... all that gets shoved aside. Everything gets delayed. I freak out. Ryan says, "well you just gotta do it." I know he's right but my fucking anxiety just stops me dead in my tracks. Getting home later means everything gets done later and I still need to wake up to go to work at the same time. It's not like I get to go to work later if I work late the night before.
The start of my day is so much more full of awesome and kick-ass compared to the end of my day. (awesome on the left, kick-ass on the right)
To think of coming home and getting on the indoor trainer at 7:30 is making me feel less than stellar also. When I work late my brain is fried. Almost always I come home with a raging headache and a lovely stomach ache to accompany that. All I want to do is curl up in a ball in my jammies and hug a fucking pillow. Every day at work is another popped balloon and I never get more. I know I need to just grow a pair. Ride home at -25C at 7:00pm at night and shut the fuck up. The thing is... my anxiety around my schedule gets exasperated and I become stagnant and unable to move (or think). It's too much for me. Part of trying to learn to live with this Asshole Anxiety (cuz it's like a person) is working within the parameters my brain can handle and it just can't handle that. Call it avoidance, I know. That's what it is.
It's piling up. The pile of shit with regards to my job and the pile of shit in my head. This fucking job..... sucks. My anxiety fucking....... sucks. Just when I thought I was doing something better for my health and my life I feel like it's all gone to waste. So what if my job is closer to home. Working 50+ hours a week and getting paid for 40? Goddamit.