I did something this week, something some people advised against, and gave up something one beloved family member could have especially used...I gave up a job. I had two, which sometime seemed to me brutally unfair to those who've been looking for so long. It was doubly difficult because I had to do so because of this damn disease that tries to keep biting off pieces of my life. It would have been easier of the people I worked with had a negative reaction, but they were very understanding and even commended me on how much professionalism it took admit that I couldn't do the job to the level I demand of myself and that they deserved and had the right to expect.
I think it was scarier to realize that I was making so many mistakes because of the brain fog which is just one of the symptoms of this wacky illness than to realize that I needed to quit. I weighed everything--the benefits, the fact that I might get fired for absenteeism if I stayed and took any more sick days, the loss of income, and the loss of society. It was an agony, an agony that many others have been through--when to admit that the disease needs more attention than the job. It's untenable, horrible, and a choice no one should have to make. I don't have the option or the desire to apply for disability again given that they've already dragged me through years of litigation over an erroneous overpayment. And I'm not quite sure what's going to happen. But I did what I had to do and what I think is right for me.
I've already started to look for a less strenuous part time job with benefits, one closer to or at home, one with enough earning potential that I only have to work one job. It might be a long search, and, in the meantime, I'll work my other job where the stakes aren't as high and where there is a long term understanding of my condition. What a blessing. And what a blessing to be able to leave a job that's not working for whatever reason. I just wish I could give it to someone who really needs it. Hopefully, it will go to such a person.
This whole journey, which started back in 1995 when I last worked full-time, has been a re-definition of what work is for me, what purpose it serves, and a realization of how important it is to work in support of art and music and non-profits than to be able to purchase leather pants on a regular basis.
It's hard, it's very scary, it's often fulfilling, and often joyous. It's my story. And the story goes on.
