madermouse's Diaryland Diary

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10/14/02

I'm sitting here in the office today, running my fingers over a brochure left by my employer. I've been contemplating calling the 800# for hours. It's a brochure for "confidential counseling support and referral service" in which the promise of psychological help awaits the user. Not only that - the service is FREE! No one will ever have to know that you got your head shrunk, and your employer foots the bill! What a concept!?! I think this is a good idea...especially when its your job that seems to be making you crazy in the first place.

So, I'm fingering this brochure and actually considering calling the toll-free hotline. All day I've been having random thoughts of running away from my bills, my life, and part of me knows this isn't right. Although I truly love my husband, and we've been getting along famously, I dream of what life must be like being single and left to my own devices. No responsibilities, no one to answer to. It doesn't seem lonely to me just now.

I don't know what to do. I guess some people would call it a mid-life crisis. Can it be a mid-life crisis at 29? Hell - maybe I'm destined to die at 60, and this is the middle of my life. So technically, I could be having a mid-life crisis. There seems to be no label that fits my particular mood today....except perhaps desperate. I don't know.

What I do know is that I caught myself today calculating the number of YEARS I had before the amount of my vacation accruals would increase by 1.45 hours per paycheck. I actually thought, for a moment, "Cool - only 2 � more years and I'll get 3 more hours a month of paid vacation!!". Upon this realization, I was immediately horrified that I was even spending precious brain cells figuring out such a thing. What's wrong with me? I mean, the fact that I can still even see myself at this job in another 2 � years is disturbing enough. But combined with the fact that I have completely eliminated other career options or life opportunities from my realm ...well, that's just beyond pitiful!!

I am smart! I have talents! I can cook like nobody's business. I can write. I can paint. I'm sure I could act if given the chance. Of course, that would be if Hollywood could even see past my imperfect flabby body. Nevermind, I don't want to act anyway....lousy acting. But dammit - why am I wasting away in an office answering phones all day?

My mind turns to the money. Its always about the money. I'm getting paid better than most people who DO have college educations. This job is one in a million jobs -especially in our economy. I think of the benefits. Boy, those sure came in handy when I landed myself in the hospital for 10 days in July. I'm still reeling from those medical bills, I can't imagine what they would've been like WITHOUT insurance!

I thought I'd be so much more by now, by 30. I thought I'd be someone digging elbow-deep in art or food or music. I never wanted to be an indentured slave to security or "things" or rigidity. Instead of something wonderful, I'm just a glorified telephone operator, trapped in this flourescent hell day after day. I thought I'd never be a person obsessed with paying bills on time, or making sure there was always enough milk in the fridge. I thought I'd be somebody with big ideas who followed dreams and made shit happen for herself. I thought I'd laugh at people who were automatons...robots going to jobs they hate everyday just to come home and collapse in front of the white light of the television, exhausted. Yet I can't laugh because I've turned into one of those robots. I AM them...with nothing more to live for than tomorrow. And tomorrow is only another bead on the string of sameness, which feels a lot more like a noose than a necklace.

When did I sell out? Was it the day I financed new living room furniture instead of rummaging through garage sales or buying another stained couch from Goodwill? Was it the moment I decided I could afford to go to the coffee shop every morning, because I was *worth* the $2.50 a day I spent there. Was it the instant a young, blue-haired kid asked me for spare change and I thought, "Get a job like the rest of us, asshole."?

I've gotten too old or too stuck to remember how to be free from burdens...financially and otherwise. I remember when I lived quite happily without a television and listened to music on a little boom box instead of a Bose. I painted more then, I spent time with friends. I worked less & had more free time. Sure, I was poor then. I lived in a smaller, cheaper apartment. I rode the bus instead of forking out $400 a month in car and insurance payments. Was I happier? I don't know. And, ironically, I'm just as broke now - struggling to afford the nicer "things" I own, like the freedom of a car which I can never take out of town because I can't afford to go anywhere!! I guzzle the gourmet double, short nonfat latte every morning because perked coffee is just soooo ordinary. And I park my butt in front of my $300 color t.v. every night to escape this drudgery called life.

I don't know where I'm going, and I'm scared to make any changes. Opportunities come and go and I let them roll off my back like water...ignoring the chances to be something better. I'm feeling my age. I am so trapped by this security of my job, of money, of insurance that its rendered me frozen, unable to take any leaps of faith. Why can't I just break free?

Sometimes I feel like I'm paying the minimum owed on the balance of my life, and the debt of my soul surmounts more than I will ever make.

2:42 p.m. - 10/14/02

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