Wednesday 23rd July

I’m fed up of my job today. Since I got back from Paris it’s lost all the excitement it had a few weeks ago, when the meds were really working and I thought life was finally just about sorted. At the moment all I’m doing is answering a never ending stream of the same boring complaints from the same boring people who need to get a life. Yeah, I’ve been doing the same thing for five years, but right now it’s bothering me more than usual. Maybe it’s because of the counselling, maybe it’s because of J, but I’ve begun to want more.

Of course, I wanted more two years ago and I got more, and it burnt me in the end. I gave up on dreams of being an important figure in the company years ago, because it clearly wasn’t meant to be and I was driving myself crazy trying to measure my self worth by how important I was or wasn’t in the company.

On the company website today I noticed they’re still advertising for that project manager role which I was briefly tempted by a few weeks ago. It could be that they’ve already filled the role and they’ve simply forgotten to take the advert down – I wouldn’t know. This evening something made me go online and send my resume in. It could have been the same desire that drove me to reach high in the past, when I was still naive enough to believe that anyone could progress there. It could have been the current backlog of annoying, pointless complaints that I have to get through; it could have been A, my gay partner in crime, who sits behind me and does nothing but bitch about how crap our job is all day. Not sure if I really stood a chance, I clicked send on the application, having given it my best shot.

It could be a really good thing to get this job, or it could be a really bad thing. Some of my least favourite people in the company belong to that department; some of the most obviously fulfilling work in the company gets done in that department. I’d probably be mad not to apply for it. It would be a challenge, probably the biggest challenge I’ve faced since getting this job, moving out of my current role where I’ve been for five years and where I’ve gotten very comfortable. It would be like unsticking a rock from its hole where it’s lived for thousands of years. The anxiety could be lethal. Then again, I could thrive there. If only I could know for sure which it is!


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