Oh yeah, we're starting this entry with an ugly cry. Last night at work, I had a wild mood swing, frustration gave way to a sudden internal dialog that literally made me want to stop what I was doing (folding and straightening hundreds of pairs of men's dress pants) and run. It went something like this...
I don't remember signing up for this. I'm supposed to be working a cash register for nine bucks an hour, not slaving away and sweating through my clothes to fold and refold stacks upon stacks of khaki pants. What are you doing with your life? SO many mistakes. You've made $270 in the last month, which doesn't even cover the cell phone bill. You just need $2730 more to make ends meet. Working retail ain't gonna cut it. More busy work, counting down registers. Six of them, to be exact. Nobody here knows your worth. Nobody knows how smart and talented you are, moreover, nobody cares. Nobody. No, don't cry. You should just walk out right now. Quit. Go home. Roll the dice on YOU. Live the life of YOUR dreams. Go make a life for yourself, blog your way across the country. Take pictures. LIVE!!!........Traci, you ride around your seven square mile radius in a fourteen year old piece of shit Volkswagen, with a gallon of anti-freeze and a quart of oil in the backseat for when it breaks down. Shut up, be grateful, and finish your shift.
I beat myself up and let the tears well up, but never fall. I was told the 40's would be the best years of my life, turns out for me, not so much. Now I'm being told that 50's will be. So far, I'm looking at starting 50 with the menopause monkey on my back, and abject poverty. Maybe depression will kick into high gear and my hair will start to fall out, too. I can't WAIT.
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