Dreading the Return...

After my physical therapy appointment today, I realized I was beginning to feel like I am really making some improvement since surgery. I can actually bend my wrist quit a bit without wincing, or crying, and I can go longer with out my splint and be o.k. I even allowed myself to think that maybe there will not be any pain like I had before surgery after all. Maybe.

Then it hit me: If I am feeling better, then that means I have to go back to work soon. Crap. I am not excited to go back. There are several people I have missed talking to, but I don't miss the job or the hospital at all. That and there are a few people that are just morons that I could go without ever seeing again, but its mostly the fact that I just don't like my job.

Get over it, right? Right. See, the problem is that you don't need anything more than a high school diploma to have this job and I wonder if some of my coworkers even have that. I went to school for psychology and elementary education, wanted to be a Psychologist, a School Psychologist actually. However, my dreams fell apart and I have been floating career wise for over a decade. Yes, over a decade. So, I guess to some extent I am lost.

But then surgery came and allowed me to do computer work, write my little heart out and read all at my leisure. It has been a glorious ten weeks; ten weeks of complete rejuvenation, liberation and joy. I was allowed time to pursue writing that I just haven't had all that much time for due to two jobs, renovating our house, yard work, dishes, laundry, shoveling, etc., etc. These are not excuses, believe me, but rather I have put my need for artistic expression way down the list as I feel it is incredibly selfish for me to take time out to write, draw or paint. Ridiculous, I know.

However, surgery permitted me to see how important writing is to me, how much I need it for so many reasons other than to "get published" or "make a career" out of it; it is so much more to me. Money is not the end goal here, but I also understand that if I am any good it will follow at some point. Well, at least I think that maybe what happens, but I tend not to think about that too much, or too often.

And now I am faced with heading back to a job that requires almost no thought on a daily basis, no real effort other than maintaining my sanity as the minutes creep by, almost standing still. I am not looking forward to the return of the mentality of feeling like such a huge underachiever, again. I think I was beginning to come to terms with that, but oh well, I guess.

Damn it.

I am not giving up. That is not an option.