If a seesaw represents balance, I look like this:
The balance in my life is nil!
I need this:
Space. Solitude. Serenity.
And this:
Laughter. Friendships. Levity. Since friendships are still in short supply, my life’s resumed the (all too) familiar refrain of:
Isolation. Loneliness. Work Work Work. Get through the day the best I can. Go home. Collapse. Do it again the next day. And btw, earn minimum wage in the meantime.
The slavish lonely life has roots deep deep in this lifetime (and others). I dare not attempt to expose them here.
+ + +
This is my weekend (M & Tu). After a “mere” three days of work, I need it!
I need this space to be alone. Fortunately the most chaotic of my two roommates is gone; the other is in his garage at the other end of the house, creatig space, albeit an imperfect one. 🙂
I need rest. Ohmigawd, I need it so badly! After the three days of extreme stress and nonstop Go! Go! Go! cleaning hotel rooms, my body feels like a pinata that’s been beaten by a bat.
Recovery happens quickly when you’re 22 or 32. It slows at 42. At 57, it arrives like a lumbering ant-eater in search of feast among the mounds.
I’ve always been quite the tomboy — active, athletic and adventurous. I’m no couch potato and I’m certainly not the modern American Entitler who feels the government *owes* him/her a living!
A lifetime of activity is serving me in this here perimeter of the so-called golden years.
But the intense go-go-go cleaning jobs best done by those in their teens and 20s remind that I’m no kid any more. I’m closer to death than birth and my body and energy are telling me:
Slow down. Keep moving. But s-l-o-w d-o-w-n.
+ + +
Therein lies the rub. I can’t. I literally cannot. Pressure at the job demands a constant output of extremely high energy output for 6-7 solid hours with nary break nor rest.
Well, the boss says we can take a break after a certain number of rooms are cleaned — just enough time to smoke a cigarette.
However, many seem not to take that small rest and instead push push push through because of the workload and a company that’s loathe to pay for even a 10-minute break every several hours.
See, I don’t agree with any company viewpoint that fails to recognize or give nods to the BASIC BODY NEEDS of its employees! Anyhow, I don’t want to go down that road.
On this day of rest after high-stress workdays, I want not to dwell on ailments. It’s better to recognize the good I’ve accomplished these past three days.
I learned a LOT in three days. I DID a lot too. Am I happy to be cleaning again? No.
Am I happy to be back at cleaning instead of writing (my calling) and being paid for it? N-O.
Am I glad to have a job again? Assuredly yes! To be earning money and my keep again? Yup.
AND my body is in decline. I have a body in decline and it is evident in all I do and/or endeavor to do at this job of extreme go-go-go. It’s not the tasks themselves but the SPEED expected, demanded, required of the workers (and again, with minimal to no rest). Unreal! — and for this gal young or old, unrealistic.
In the short term, I may be able to pull it off at 80, 85 percent max, of the required speed. In the long term …
{fill in the blank for a future job yet unknown}
It’s high noon, I just ran outta steam so I’m gonna go get me some balance in the one place I can!
Allelujah, Arizona! 