I hadn’t been paying attention to the fact that I was enjoying what I was doing less and less. I assumed it was the way life was supposed to go. I never questioned my career path. I noticed colleagues around me appear to be much more enthused about their daily lives, specifically regarding work. I told myself I that I was content too. As I look back now, I feel that I was lying to myself- repeatedly telling myself that everything was fine. It got to the point where enjoying the little things in life, short moments that should be an escape, opportunities to live in the moment, didn’t exist anymore.
My temper was becoming increasingly short. Politely inquiring how my day want was a surefire way to extract a curt response from me and put me in a terrible mood “I don’t want to talk about work.” I would almost never go into detail about why I was angry or not having a good time. I was doing everything possible to avoid thinking about work while not at work. Every evening and every Saturday through Sunday I expelled more energy worrying about how miserable I would be come Monday morning.
The smallest things agitated me. I retreated into myself more and more. I communicated with family and friends less for fear that I’d be asked about anything related to my life, which I was unable to keep separate from work. Work and the rest of my life was one and the same. I assumed this was life- forced to be miserable just to earn a pay check. Hating what I was doing so much it must have been apparent to those I worked with, which didn’t help my cause in the office.
Working with Lea: