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Dec. 20th, 2007 05:51 amI need more life in my work/life balance, not just time, but what to fill that time with. Not only are the people I see the most not those I love the most, but in the time I do have not at work, I do little with it but metaphorically curl up in my cave and lick my wounds, recuperate. I feel as though I made a bad deal, or was sold a bill of goods only to find later just how sorely lacking it is.
Work has been crazy stressful, but that only underscores the problem rather than creating it. Some of this no doubt is magnified in magnitude by the estrangement I feel from my coworkers; they're hardly friends, in no small part because of the unspeakable, unbridgeable gap between interpretive schema for me, but again, only part of the problem, rather than the core. I do what I do well, but it doesn't ultimately matter to me. I don't think I'm cut out to be a daily commuter, a nine to fiver, to spend the majority of my waking life doing things that don't matter with people I don't particularly care for. I'm supposed to be making a living, but I'm having trouble finding the living in the toil.
At the time that I most want to draw closer to those I genuinely care about, I feel myself slipping further away. This time of year exacerbates this. It's meant to be one of conviviality, companionship, good will and gatherings. For me, not so much. Everyone around me is socially abuzz, receiving and accepting offers in the spirit given, connecting in ways that I just can't seem to understand or emulate. I'm supposed to value my family and time with them, but instead I find them lessening, grounding from the perspective of the charge, not the building with the lightning rod. It's a time for friends, but I'm problematic, make others uncomfortable and often feel like the idea of a friend, safer and easier conceptually, but difficult in practice, or possibly a taken for granted potentiality. Of the few that do want to see me, there's never time, either my own impossible schedule or conflicts with their own obligations and callings.
I want a life with meaning. I need meaning to live. How is it that I've ended up here instead? I feel very set apart, in that most of those I know found a way to live and thrive in the world of work and interaction while I am slowly withering away.
The things in my head as I woke up this morning:
"Noooo future! Noooo future!"
"Career opportunities, the ones I never got."
"Do you ever feel you've been cheated?"
Yes, John, I do.
Work has been crazy stressful, but that only underscores the problem rather than creating it. Some of this no doubt is magnified in magnitude by the estrangement I feel from my coworkers; they're hardly friends, in no small part because of the unspeakable, unbridgeable gap between interpretive schema for me, but again, only part of the problem, rather than the core. I do what I do well, but it doesn't ultimately matter to me. I don't think I'm cut out to be a daily commuter, a nine to fiver, to spend the majority of my waking life doing things that don't matter with people I don't particularly care for. I'm supposed to be making a living, but I'm having trouble finding the living in the toil.
At the time that I most want to draw closer to those I genuinely care about, I feel myself slipping further away. This time of year exacerbates this. It's meant to be one of conviviality, companionship, good will and gatherings. For me, not so much. Everyone around me is socially abuzz, receiving and accepting offers in the spirit given, connecting in ways that I just can't seem to understand or emulate. I'm supposed to value my family and time with them, but instead I find them lessening, grounding from the perspective of the charge, not the building with the lightning rod. It's a time for friends, but I'm problematic, make others uncomfortable and often feel like the idea of a friend, safer and easier conceptually, but difficult in practice, or possibly a taken for granted potentiality. Of the few that do want to see me, there's never time, either my own impossible schedule or conflicts with their own obligations and callings.
I want a life with meaning. I need meaning to live. How is it that I've ended up here instead? I feel very set apart, in that most of those I know found a way to live and thrive in the world of work and interaction while I am slowly withering away.
The things in my head as I woke up this morning:
"Noooo future! Noooo future!"
"Career opportunities, the ones I never got."
"Do you ever feel you've been cheated?"
Yes, John, I do.
