I haven’t confessed to any body that I don’t want my corporate job any more. The company is doing great in the stock market. I have great benefits, one of which allowed me 6 months job security after my glass accident. I’ve changed ever since I put my arm through a glass window. Not just emotionally – physically I can’t sit for more than 2 hours. I can’t type for long either. This past week I had to go over on breaks and personals due to the pain in my arm.
It’s hard to explain the pain. As a writer, I’ve become determined to describe the pain so someone could understand. I can’t though. How do you explain that it feels like a giant has picked you up by your arm? Sometimes my arm will feel like its under ice. It hurts every day, I discover new metaphors to explain the allodynia – the fact that my skin is so sensitive you can’t touch me.
The loneliness that comes with writing is expected; the loneliness that comes with not being understood incredibly hurts. I promised myself I would never complain on social media again, I would never post a sad post, I would never go public about the depression, I never want any one to feel like they have to solve my problems. I have so many problems that cannot be solved.
The problem with my arm is that I do have nerve damage and I have a problem working. I have a problem tying my self worth to this job, which I do love but it’s becoming harder and harder – I see that now, like a mathematician equation on chalkboard. I have some heart problems. That much of the equation is clear.
Books are a source of company. Eight books will be lined up on my bed like crystals. I’ll open each one and read a chapter, then sleep next to them. I let myself dream of owning my own bookshop, a place you can get bagels and coffee, and maybe finding a small part time job where I worked 20 hours a week instead of 40.
Could I say goodbye to my corporate chair? It’s everyone’s dream job – work at home, bring home a paycheck, great workplace, medical insurance. I’ll keep collecting more books, as if one of them hidden away in these dusty thrift stores might hold the answer to all my problems.