I had a funny thought yesterday- I was thinking, as I often have, about how bizarre it is that people spend most of their waking hours away from their families, working at jobs where they are basically forced to conform to weird rules (did anyone ever really die because someone was one minute late to work? No? Then WHY is it such a horrible big deal?) and bite their tongues when their “superior” acts like an asshat- I’m lucky that I happen to adore my boss, but I have had plenty of jobs where I was forced to nearly swallow my tongue in order to keep from losing my ever loving shit. Anyway, no matter how you crack it, I think our entire society is set up wrong, but… that being said, my dreams of travelling the country like a vagabond, with not a care in the world, well…basically ALL of my daydreams involve me not having to work. While also being independently wealthy. Which is why, of course, they are just daydreams. Yes, people wander off and live their dreams all the freaking time- of course they do! But they still have to plan, and save, and figure stuff out. And they also have to live with the repercussions, such as possibly having no health insurance, running out of resources, or realizing that they are really, really bad at being stuck in a small RV with a fourth grader. I mean, I’m sure at least a couple of people have come to this realization a few months too late to take it back.
My point is, unless we hit the powerball or invent something amazing or are born into big money, and maybe even then, work is part of life. Where in the world did I get the idea that I shouldn’t have to work? I don’t know. I am guessing it grew from the depths of my lazy nature, and morphed into some kind of belief that I was being screwed by “the system”. My brain is tricky like that. It was just funny, because in all of the years I have bitched, internally (and sometimes externally, too) about how unfair/weird/terrible/cruel it is that I am “forced” to work, it never occurred to me until yesterday that perhaps my thinking was flawed.
Sure, I could be doing something different- something I love more, something that feeds my spirit. I have choices. But I have it pretty good, honestly. I love the people I work with, and the hospital I work for, and four days a week I can actually sit right here, in my pajamas, and work from the comfort of my own home. If I wanted to change all of that, I totally could- but that would also be work. I’d need to go to school (which I still will probably do) and give up time with my daughter, and jump through a whole lot of different hoops to get somewhere new. No one is forcing me to stay here, and no one can force me to change. So to complain, when the choice is really mine, is just plain silly. Part of life is work. There will always be a job to do.
Yet another lesson I am learning a little late in the game. Yet more evidence that my thought process can be very skewed, indeed. Sigh. What in the world am I going to do with myself?