A little over a month ago, I wrote my first post, basically, as a brief introduction into how many of us seem to find our way into careers that have all the satisfaction and pleasure of being beaten repeatedly in the face with a crowbar. For me, that was dialysis.
Stephen Chbosky, who grew up not far from where I live in Pittsburgh, is of course renowned for his poignant and quirky coming-of-age tale “The Perks of Being a Wallflower.” There is a quote from that novel that is resurfacing on social media which, to me, is applicable to more than love and crappy relationships. “We accept the love we think we deserve” is how I felt about working in dialysis. Isn’t it funny that we allow ourselves to die away slowly in a profession that takes advantage of us, undervalues us, destroys our health and kills whatever light is within us- and then, in turn, we hate ourselves because a job is a job and we are lucky to have anything. My days started at 3 in the morning and ended at 6 at night, I was keeping people alive and received the wages and recognition of a glorified flight attendant. I will provide anecdotes in the future, when the time is right, but that’s what life was, for a seemingly short/ seemingly endless nine months. That’s three-quarters of a year in my life that I will never get back. So I stopped. I just stopped.
Maybe not all fields in sales are this way, but jewelry sales has a side that’s almost incestuous. You work for a retailer, private or nationwide; naturally, you meet people. Those people get pissed off or move and go somewhere else, and then you do, and after awhile, everyone knows everyone in this business. I was at my clinic, breaking down cardboard boxes (one of the many petty tasks put on a Patient Care Technician (PCT) ) when I received a text from a friend/ co-worker of mine from the jewelry store I used to work at. A sales rep for a partner company who does travelling remount shows, he had recently been to our store and had to share the gossip with me: two people left, including the assistant manager. This was three weeks before December, our busiest season. From that point on I began making phone calls.
I accepted a full-time position on Thanksgiving, uncharacteristically leaving no notice at the dialysis clinic the next day. I didn’t get to say goodbye to any of my patients or the few co-workers I actually liked, but I still maintain that it was the right decision. Life is SO hard, and whether you believe in one life or a thousand, you are living this one right now. Naomi Campbell probably said it the best when she said, (and bear with me, I am paraphrasing) “I’m a hardworking bitch. Sometimes, you just have to go for it.” I went for it. Was it impulsive? Yes. Will I have doubts when things really slow down in the summer months? Probably. But is life better on this side of Aegean Stable? Yes, a million times yes.
If anyone of you is reading this (and apparently someone is, thank you, 1 follower!) please consider that no matter how dire your situation, you can always turn it around. Things may not always be better, but they can be different, and sometimes, that is enough.
Hopefully, more to come soon. I’ve just been interrogated by the cat that we don’t spend enough time together and what happened to our long talks?
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