Resigned to Misery

Well, my holiday is drawing to a close, with the deterioration in the weather making the prospect of returning to work even more miserable.  You know, I even had a dream last night where I handed in my notice. Perhaps it is a portent.  Certainly, things can't go on as they are.  A few weeks ago, I drew up one of those pros and cons lists with regard to my job.  The only thing I could think of to put in the pro list was that I got paid for it.  Badly paid, but paid.  (Actually, I hadn't realised how badly until I checked the current National Living Wage - the absolute minimum hourly rate I'd be entitled to - and realised that when calculated as an hourly rate, my wages aren't that far above it).  That was it.  Nothing else.  No job satisfaction, no feeling of achievement, no intellectual challenge, no great workplace.  Nothing.  Whereas in the cons column were such things as 'it makes me ill', 'it exposes me to unnecessary risk' and 'it is utterly pointless'.  Those were just the highlights, there was much, much more.  The key point, though, is that it makes me ill.  Not just the literal stress related illness I experienced last year, which nearly resulted in a stroke and has left me on medication, but also the daily feelings of dread and angst I suffer when working.  It is notable that the stomach upsets I suffer as the result of taking Metformin for my diabetes, have been much less severe for these three weeks that I've been away from work.  I've still experienced upsets, but they've been manageable.  While working, they are sometimes debilitating.  Coincidence?  I think not.

The reality is that, right now, I've put myself in a financial situation where I could walk out without another job to go to immediately.  I have sufficient funds to survive quite happily for several years, if need be.  Moreover, without a mortgage, rent or dependents, I wouldn't have to work full time.  (I'm already down to four days a week and, in a job that paid a decent rate, I'd only need to work three days a week. In fact, if push came to shove, I could even pay the bills and buy the groceries on three days a week of National Living Wage).   Or so I keep telling myself.  But saying it, or, indeed, knowing it on an intellectual level, is a world away from actually taking the step of handing in one's notice.  For someone of my generation, for whom holding a steady and secure job has been indoctrinated, from an early age, as being the 'Holy Grail', the idea of walking away from a job simply because it has become unbearable, still seems somehow wrong.  I still have this feeling that I would be committing some kind of transgression if I were deliberately to make myself unemployed and that my social status and self worth would somehow be damaged.  But it isn't as if I'd be claiming benefits, plus, my current job confers no social status (quite the opposite) and doing it undermines my sense pf self worth.  I just need to convince myself of all this at an emotional level.  I have a feeling that a week back at work will help me do that.  If things haven't improved since I went on leave (and I can guarantee they won't have), then it won't take much to push me into finally resigning.  I just need to be decisive.

Christ, this all pretty depressing, isn't it?  I really need to get back to the schlock and lighter stuff here, don't I?   Hopefully, next week, I'll be in the mood to start doing that.