Category Archives: stuff i’ve done

Freedom

A prompted post, idea originally from Please Don’t Eat With Your Mouth Open, taken up by Blonde (as prompted by one of her friends), and then shamelessly stolen by me. So sue me. “Write about the best gifts you’ve ever been given”

The alarm went off shockingly early. Another day, another dollar. I had to get to work and, although he had a day off, that meant he had to get up early too. I hit snooze for the third time (I have a five snooze limit) and rolled over, ready to surrender to that lovely dozy feeling that comes with waking up. But something was stopping me drifting back into the cocoon of unconsciousness.

Light. More specifically, bright sunshine pouring in through the window straight onto my face.

For the first time in ages a) it was light when I woke up and b) it was actually sunny. Will wonders never cease? And so, it was because of that simple ray of sunshine, that I ended up here:

Just because I could.The last few months have been something of a revelation.

The last few months have been something of a revelation. I have spent the 12 years in the corporate world being told what to do, how to do it, and when to do it by. I always had a boss. Who had a boss. Who had expectations, and objectives, and targets. I worked in the same office, day after day. I was surrounded by the same people, all dealing with the same problems as me. The time sped by in a gloriously monotonous fashion whereby I knew that no matter what happened (barring a firing!) I would go home at the end of the month with my paycheck, thank you very much. Sometimes I was promoted. Sometimes I got to travel. Sometimes there were shards of excitement – some juicy gossip, some chocolates from someone’s holiday – to break up the day.

And now it’s all changed.

I decide what to do, how to do it, when to do it by. If I don’t meet my own expectations, achieve my objectives, hit my targets, it’s my own fault. I’m the one who suffers. I’m the one who doesn’t get paid. I’m the one who worries about how to pay rent. Does it sound stressful? You’re right, it is. It’s the most stressed I’ve been in a long time but, at the same time, it’s the most liberated I think I’ve ever been. The stress I’m under now isn’t dependent on other people. It’s not about internal politics and getting a promotion and a boss who’s unreasonable. This stress is about me learning every day, about balancing budgets and bills, about finding new clients, about dealing with massive rejection.

All of these things I’ve given myself in the last 6 months.

I have given myself the gift of freedom.

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Frangation

You’ve heard of being hangry, haven’t you? That devilish occurrence of hunger making you angry and irritable?

Well I’m FRangry. Frustrated and angry.

“Why?” you ask. Hang on to your hats, dear readers, and I will explain (read: rant)

I have 12 days left in this job. 12 days before I get to walk out of this behemoth of an office and not have to come back unless it’s under my own terms. (For the avoidance of doubt, my own terms include lunch with former colleagues, in my capacity as a consultant, or to do photocopying – ok, maybe not the last one). 12 days.

Bearing that in mind, you’d think that my current emotions would be oscillating between ecstatic and oh-my-god thrilled.

Not the case.

I’m bored, angry, frustrated, jaded, cynical, bitchy, depressed. I have nothing to do, and no desire to find myself work to do (12 days people!) and so I sit here day in, day out, getting bored. Boredom leads to anger and frustration. Why wouldn’t someone give me some work to do! Do I have to put up with 12 days of this? This, in turn, leads to cynicism and a jaded outlook on my colleagues and the work I’ve spent the last 8 years doing. Well obviously they’re not giving me anything to do. I only have 12 days left here. It’s not like they need to get me to do a handover or anything, they don’t think the job I’ve been doing needs one. But maybe I should do a handover anyway? Naaa, why bother, they won’t use it. It’ll just sit somewhere, gathering metaphorical dust.

This attitude leads me to bitchiness. I pick at everything around me. I refuse to be enthusiastic about projects, about my colleague’s work. I sit, sulking at my desk. And that leads me feel depressed. I berate myself constantly for not being me. For not knuckling down and getting on with things. For  being so lazy. For slacking off. For not.

And it’s a perpetual spiral of frangriness.

And I’m fed up of it.

12 more days.

 

 

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