Hundreds of Hours of Toiling

Hundreds of Hours of Toiling November 25, 2016


I’ve been off the grid for a while. And I am not going to apologise for it. Women apologise too much, even when there are legitimate reasons for why they did something. I’ve been off the grid and trust me you wouldn’t have wanted to see the inside of my mind then. It would have been a muddled mess. A muddled and tired mess. I’ve been exhausted, but not completely because of bad reasons.

I started a new job and it is quite possibly one that I would have once considered my dream job. But something inside me has been holding me back from celebrating this new job, probably because I still feel a little like what I want is wrong. What I actually want can’t be right for me. Christianity indoctrinated me to think that anything I did that made me happy was wrong. Being happy and getting what you wanted was too easy, you were expected to want the struggle. The more you struggle, the more likely you were to be blessed. The righteous are to take the difficult path, for they will be rewarded in heaven.

I spent hundreds of hours volunteering for four years, hundreds of hours of unpaid work that I was good at and now I am finally doing a job that I am good at and suits me. So I suppose I have sufficiently toiled and taken the difficult path to get here. I had to put up with two years of jobs that were too easy for me and made me feel like my mind was melting. I had to put up with two managers who bullied me and tried to hold me back in progressing and being the real me. I have had my share of shit. But that shit made sense. Life is meant to be tough isn’t it? God makes you deal with terrible things. We are sinners. We deserve bad things. Even though I have worked hard, put up with situations that no one should go through, I still feel somewhat uncertain how to adapt to this existence. This existence of being happy tired and using my mind at work.

My dream job was once to support ex-christians through leaving religion. To help those who had experienced their identity ripped from them with the realisation that they are no longer a christian. I thought that this was my dream, and only once I was doing this would I be happy, turns out I am happy with what I have now, which is a wonderful realisation. Also, perhaps I am ok. Perhaps the person that I am, and the person I was before wasn’t so bad. So, for now I am happy excavating the remains of who I once was and rebuilding on the parts of me that I like.


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