It’s Monday morning, and we’re in our usual rush to get out the door at the sound of the alarm and beat morning traffic.
I’m usually frustrated during these mornings, because it’s rare for me to have time off from the day job. It’s especially frustrating today, though. My daughter is 6 years old today, and I’ll be lucky if I make it home in time to tell her goodnight as she gets in bed.
I’ve always been of two minds when it comes to my work. On one hand, the labor gives me a sense of contentment. I enjoy working, especially if it can provide me chances to challenge myself. Letter-slinging being a way more intensely physical job than most people realize, I get this sense of contentment quite easily. But on the other, I know what it’s like when your parents work too much and you’re left to your own devices. I desperately want to be present for my family, but the demands of said family keep me away, making sure they have enough to keep food in their bellies.
But as I’ve gone 2 days with mild panic attacks over my work time, I’ve been considering taking a few days off. Not for writing (though I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t want to try getting some chapters done during) but for my mental health. I usually work 6 days a week, averaging around 9-10 hours a day. Do that for too long and you’ll start breaking down.
A fun part to that is that I had to go to my boss and let him know. A couple of my supervisors, not to mention some of my older coworkers, will resent this eventual action. But as they’ve also been the ones to say that my children don’t need their father present in their lives, I’ve elected to ignore them. I’ll be taking those mental health days soon, most likely in a few weeks when I can lock in a 4-day weekend without spending annual leave for it.
With that, it’s time I went and slung these letters. Hopefully, I’ll be home in time to enjoy my kids’ birthday with her.
Stay safe and be well, readers.
-JB Swift
Swift's Corner 