By: Emily Eileen Moreshead
So I spent most of last week in a knot. Work caused me to rage, tightened my chest, brought me closer to that heart attack I’m saving up for but will never afford…I am really starting to despise the fact that I bust my butt every day helping other people fulfill their dreams while mine get consistently swept under the rug. I believe it was enough for me to be a team player in my twenties but now I’m just spent. My health is suffering and that is not fair to me, the person I am entrusted to care for explicitly.
Therefore I have only few immediate options. I need to quit and start my own business, I need to continue scouring the interwebs for writing gigs I can accomplish at home, and I need to bid farewell to those who could care less if I suffer a coronary at my desk. This is easier said than done of course!
Due to the climate we now live in and despite my hopes at age sixteen of retiring by age seventy, this is no longer viable unless I die. Reasonably speaking, I will be working until the age of at least eighty or longer if I am still on Planet Earth by then and not enjoying my much deserved heavenly reward.
I try to relax but relax is a term that has never loved me because it is something that proves extremely difficult for me. I have tried but my mind is one that is never inclined to be still. I always have something pressing in my head that needs to be done, something I am replaying over and over or a memory that I cannot forget. It would honestly be easier if there was a sort of ‘distraction switch’ that could be turned off when not needed. (This is also why insomnia is a close confident, but I digress…)
Since I moved in January, I am grateful for my new front porch that I try to utilize whenever possible. But those moments are fleeting, sadly. I wish I had more time to enjoy the world that I miss by working, the days I merge into one gloomy week after another, and the lunch hours I forfeit all in an effort to help others enjoy themselves while I inwardly destroy myself. The Phoenix is one of Scorpio’s symbols, and like the mythical bird, I will destroy myself in an attempt to do what I think is best for others. Admirable, yes. Healthy, no. So I keep searching, seeking out the me that I hope to find in what I love and the world that I crave that consists of me, my writings, my theatrical memories, and my coffee.
I hope to find myself before I’m 40 in three years but I worry if I don’t do it sooner, I will no longer get the chance.