The Evil HR
So, what ever made me think that I'd want to be in Human Resources?
It was good for the first while, but now I find that I spend all day thinking of ways to not be here anymore. When I'm away from this place, I can function just fine... I have my moments, but that's to be expected with clinical depression and anxiety disorders. But when I'm here, or thinking about being here my heart starts to pound and my breathing gets shorter. I try to calm down... to access that calm within. It's always just out of reach.
I feel helpless and hopeless.
Then I remember that I just bought a house, and we're trying to have a baby, and I need the income so badly. I remember the debt. I remember the cyborg toys... palm, cel, laptop, ipod, ds... the list goes on. I remember how nice it is to just go out to a nice restaurant whenever I want. I remember the vacations and the weekends away.
And then I remember the feeling in the pit of my stomach. The despair I choke down every morning when I open my eyes and remember that I have to come back to this place. I remember the snickers and the sarcastic comments or the looks of pity when I mention that I'm in the HR department. I remember all the days that I call my husband just to be reminded that the world isn't entirely cold and harsh around me.
And then I think, "Who the hell lets work get to them this much? What the f*ck?!?" I mean, this just isn't a common workplace attitude. Almost everyone in my department hates their job and hates coming into this place five days a week. They can all get through the day without falling into depression. They aren't white-knuckling it just to keep from crying... at least not every day. Why do I let it get to me so much? Why can't I just keep my head down, get the work done, not care what everyone says, not care how my bosses treat me, and get the hell out at 4:30 like everyone else? And why do I still feel the need to pretend that I like my job whenever anybody says "Oh, you work at the Catholic School Board? You must really like it there." I hate that I'm a liar.
And then I remember that quiet place where I'm safe. Where I'm wrapped in a blanket with my stuffies and my po-po. Where the calming sounds of rain and wind chimes fill the air. Where Charles is holding me and gently rubbing my nose and kissing my forehead. Where I'm loved and time stops. It saddens me to be so far away from that spot right now. But I know that I can go there again. And be safe.
It was good for the first while, but now I find that I spend all day thinking of ways to not be here anymore. When I'm away from this place, I can function just fine... I have my moments, but that's to be expected with clinical depression and anxiety disorders. But when I'm here, or thinking about being here my heart starts to pound and my breathing gets shorter. I try to calm down... to access that calm within. It's always just out of reach.
I feel helpless and hopeless.
Then I remember that I just bought a house, and we're trying to have a baby, and I need the income so badly. I remember the debt. I remember the cyborg toys... palm, cel, laptop, ipod, ds... the list goes on. I remember how nice it is to just go out to a nice restaurant whenever I want. I remember the vacations and the weekends away.
And then I remember the feeling in the pit of my stomach. The despair I choke down every morning when I open my eyes and remember that I have to come back to this place. I remember the snickers and the sarcastic comments or the looks of pity when I mention that I'm in the HR department. I remember all the days that I call my husband just to be reminded that the world isn't entirely cold and harsh around me.
And then I think, "Who the hell lets work get to them this much? What the f*ck?!?" I mean, this just isn't a common workplace attitude. Almost everyone in my department hates their job and hates coming into this place five days a week. They can all get through the day without falling into depression. They aren't white-knuckling it just to keep from crying... at least not every day. Why do I let it get to me so much? Why can't I just keep my head down, get the work done, not care what everyone says, not care how my bosses treat me, and get the hell out at 4:30 like everyone else? And why do I still feel the need to pretend that I like my job whenever anybody says "Oh, you work at the Catholic School Board? You must really like it there." I hate that I'm a liar.
And then I remember that quiet place where I'm safe. Where I'm wrapped in a blanket with my stuffies and my po-po. Where the calming sounds of rain and wind chimes fill the air. Where Charles is holding me and gently rubbing my nose and kissing my forehead. Where I'm loved and time stops. It saddens me to be so far away from that spot right now. But I know that I can go there again. And be safe.
posted by Buster Fixxitt & his Best Girl @ 8:40 a.m.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home