Welp. My job was written out of the budget as of early April; I had another job offer and I took it. My boss had the cajones to actually let his fuckin' mouth hang open when I told him I was turning in my two weeks. This was on a Friday. All weekend, the memory of his mouth dropping open like he just couldn't believe I took another job stuck in my craw. On Monday, I had a follow-up with the neurologist, and right now, it appears I have Functional Neurological Disorder. So, the symptoms are real, but there seems to be no physical explanation of why. We spoke about the high amount of stress I was under, and the minute I got out to my car, I checked my phone, and the fucking boss had texted me to hurry me along to tell the other two office staff. So I texted him back that I wasn't coming in for the next two weeks, that I was done, and if he didn't want to pay me for the vacation time for those two weeks, fine. I was out even if I had to quit. He stated back that he would not object to me taking vacation time, and I haven't set foot in that goddamned building since I dropped my keys on his desk that evening and walked out.
As to what my new job is: I am a housekeeper in a hospital. It's odd how uncomfortable people are when they ask what I'm doing now and I tell them. There's no shame in my game. I work with two great people, and I work hard, and when I go home at the end of the day, that new job is done until the following day. There's nothing to stew about, nothing to be scared of at the beginning of each new day. I'm not getting psychologically abused by a liar and a very insecure person anymore. They get my "slack". (To the person who asked me if I didn't think I might be a hypochondriac: Fuck off and then do it again. Lather, rinse, repeat daily.)
I'm still having the same neurological symptoms that I had before, but I'm dealing (as though there were another choice). Hopefully, my brain can re-wire itself eventually and perhaps there won't be lasting problems. Perhaps there will be, and I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
I had everything I thought I wanted in a job: a great-paying job with regular daytime hours, fabulous health insurance. Enough to help my family live a little more comfy than we are now. But, Jesus, the price of having "everything I wanted" in a job has kicked me in the ass, and I get that we are more than our job titles. We're all replaceable when it comes to a job, and that includes the people I used to work with. I hope they think about that while they're bitching about having to do all the stuff I used to do. I still have nightmares about working there, and I see how damaged I had become as I continued to stay there. News flash : toilets don't tell you you're not good enough, a shiny floor and a sanitized bed offers some immediate satisfaction, and being a laborer helps make the days go faster and gives me a pretty great sense of helping something be better than it was only an hour ago.
