Every night I dream about work. I dream about being in the middle of whatever major crisis I’m actually in the middle of in my waking hours, but it’s weirder. I find myself in a situation ten times worse than it actually is (or maybe it is really that bad but I’m in denial), and then I wake up stressed. It doesn’t matter if it’s the work week or the weekend, it’s all the same. I can’t escape my job. It doesn’t get easier over time, either. I used to have these same dreams when I was an administrative assistant; I had then when I was project support. Now I have them as the project lead. It’s all the same.
I work for a company that pays very well and expects absolute dedication from its employees. It’s not a bad company; in fact it’s a very good company. The benefits are good, the retirement is good, the reputation is good. There are fairly clear processes for getting the work done. I’ve been here for over twelve years.
When I started this job, I wasn’t sure it was what I was supposed to do with my life. It was a steady income after I had started my own business which failed. I needed stability and a chance to decide how to get from where I was to where I wanted to be.
Where did I want to be? I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to own a book store. I wanted health insurance for my kids and myself and I wanted to be able to pay my mortgage and afford a car that didn’t break down every day.
Over time, I obtained a degree – in journalism and in communications (a double major). I eventually got on track with making my house payments. I had health care, and that was good because my kids made sure we used every ounce available of it.
My kids grew up. I got married. I bought a better house and a nicer car. I never used my education, in the sense that I never became a journalist or a communicator. I was promoted several times, and I got to a point where I brought work home every night and weekend, and thought about it while sleeping.
This is not my beautiful life. My life is beautiful, but I’m not enjoying it. I have high blood pressure and can’t turn off work. It’s not what I’m supposed to do with my professional life and I worry that all of the savings, the 401K, the retirement, is going to go to my husband and kids living comfortable after I die young – or at least before I retire. I can’t deal with it.
I’m an artist, and a musician. I care about the world around me, and the people I come in contact with. I also like to have a good time, and to stay up late talking about politics and religion.
Before I’m 50, which is just around the corner, I’d like to be in control of my destiny. I’m not right now.
HARPER-BOOKS 