Technically the week went quickly. From a certain angle it might look as if I was in Eastern Europe one minute and then back here the next. My secret “final handover” with the team out there, which no one knew was part of my final trip, kept me so busy all week I barely had time to stop and think. Yet in the hours of free time that I chose to spend doing nothing outside of the office, I could do nothing but think – about money. Namely the large amount of money that I’ve been promised is coming my way in the next eight days. So whilst the week has flown on one level, it’s crawled by on another.
I’ve been in a state of low level tension for at least the past seven days since they announced the company sale. I’ve hardly been able to stop myself from checking my bank account every five minutes, even when at work. I’ve slowed time down to such an extent that next week, by which time the money is due, seems like an eternity away. In my life there’ve been times when I would have killed to slow time down. Now isn’t one of them.
It’s all come down to this desperation for freedom, this all consuming desire to quit my job which has played on my mind constantly for the past nine months, and I can’t stop thinking about it. As soon as the money hits my account I can pretty much go, but it hasn’t appeared yet and so I’m still stuck, every minute I still feel stuck, and the possibility of freedom still seems so far off.
As a young person who has had a bright future dangled in front of them virtually for years, in a world where increasingly few people of my generation get to think about travelling or taking time out of work or buying property, the events coming up in the next week are so wonderful for me, they don’t seem real yet. I so badly want it to be real but it still feels like some kind of far off fantasy. I can’t make myself believe that it’s actually going to happen.
While I was too busy to think this week I was still thinking about this all the time, really. I didn’t want to be there. As much as I love working with the team there I know I’ve spent far too much time there this year, and I don’t want to go back. Everything about the journey stresses me out so much, and although I secretly had this dream to manage them a few months ago, I’ve realised that managing a team of people in Eastern Europe is not my destiny. If it was, it would have happened. There are too many reasons why being there permanently wouldn’t work out, so knowing that has made this week harder than it needed to be.
To add to the stress of waiting for the bonus, I went and booked a trip to France for the end of August, during the few moments last week when I was so ecstatic and certain of the future after the big announcement. P said to me “You’re getting the money soon, aren’t you?” To which I thought, “Yeah, he’s right.” You only live once, etc. If I can’t be spontaneous at this stage in my life when can I be?
The trouble is it hasn’t left me with a lot to live on for the next week and a half. In the unlikely but possible event of something going wrong with the bonus, I’ll be absolutely screwed in France. I’ll have nothing to spend because it will have all gone on food and travel expenses at home beforehand.
You might be forgiven for thinking I have a tendency to over-worry about things to death. It’s true, I’ve over thought this so much and come to the worst possible conclusion. I’ve made something very unlikely seem most probable just by focusing on it for hours on end. I can’t persuade myself that everything’s going to be OK. I’m a die hard worrier. This is who I fundamentally am. It’s funny, in a really strange way. Oh haha, yet again I’m torturing myself with “it’s all going to go horribly wrong” for no reason. When I’m 60 I really hope I can look back on this and smile.