Fugatory

Ohhhhh my goodness. So much to talk about.

I will start with the most freeing: I've decided to leave my job.

If I'm honest, this has been coming for a while, but it was starting to feel like manager's bad behavior was the universe trying to tell me something. I mean, I'd more or less admitted to myself that I likely wouldn't be able to stick it out through the summer like I hoped, but if I was going to do that, I wanted to take at least a month off between jobs to decompress from everything. And salvage at least some of the summer.

But as I perused job listings -- admittedly, all hospital-related -- everything felt more and more depressing. Which, yeah, okay. Job hunting is never going to be super thrilling and inspirational, but like. I dunno. Everything felt suffocating and hopeless.

And then I had a meeting with manager after I got back from Salem. She more or less declared that I would be taking responsibility for the two doctors that I shouldn't be responsible for, whether I liked it or not. She tried to make a few excuses as to why she didn't come to me 1:1 for an update.

At the point she tried to tell me the amount of work I would be doing wouldn't actually be as much as A was doing, I lost it. I flat out told her I could not believe a single word coming out of her mouth because she'd told so many different things to all the different people. Her response? "If you can't trust me, you should find another job."

My victory out of that meeting was that I didn't cry (out of anger). I managed to keep it together for the twenty minutes. As soon as we disconnected, I broke down. Fully and completely. It didn't help that as soon as we logged off Zoom, she's calling me to ask me why I wasn't on site (BECAUSE I WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE. HOW FUCKING DUMB WOULD I HAVE TO BE TO APPEAR ON A ZOOM FROM HOME WHEN YOUR NEW BS SCHEDULE SAYS I'M SUPPOSED TO BE AT THE HOSPITAL JESUS TAP DANCING CHRIST).

Once I calmed down, I called a coworker (D) and said it for the first time, "I think i have to quit." D and I have almost identical work ethic, so she would understand how big a deal it is for me to say it, and she is the only person I trusted not to gossip about it. And though my manager is not her direct manager, my manager's shenanigans affects D, so she's aware of everything that's going on and also quite fed up with manager's bullshit.

She was very supportive, telling me I had to do what was best for me, and then we shit-talked the manager and higher ups for a bit. After we hung up, I was useless for the rest of the day as my brain takes off in alllll the different directions.

Actually, I wasn't just useless for the rest of the day, I was useless for SEVERAL days. Was I really going to quit my job without a job lined up? Even though I planned to take a month for myself before starting a new job, leaving without a job guaranteed at some point is beyond stupid, right? That is one of the most fiscally irresponsible things a person can do, right???

But along with that, my catholic guilt roared to life. The department is already understaffed thanks to manager, things are going to get worse if I leave. On top of that, I'd talked to my two most demanding doctors at the end of May/beginning of June to explain what was going on with manager overall, and emphasized to them that I did not want to leave my job. Am I really going to make myself a liar?

It wasn't until I started telling other people about the meeting with manager and their reactions to her telling me to get a new job, that I realized just how toxic she was and that I just couldn't stick around.

The nail in the coffin, so to speak, was talking with my therapist. A week had passed at that point, and the only thing really holding me back was the panic of the unknown, along with my concern that I know hard it is for me to get out of a rut once I've settled into one.

All hail therapy.

She asked me some questions. I really had to think about the answers. And then she talked about another patient of hers going through what they call their "Me Year;" they left their job and have been spending all year focused on themself. But they aren't just skipping through the days, they have a plan with measurable goals and a hard end date. And therapist said they're doing fabulously.

I was immediately intrigued, but also said, "Not sure an entire year would be a good idea."

"But could you do six months?"

That was the moment. That was the moment the decision was made.

I've been sick ever since, of course. I want to tell my docs first and one of them was out of the country last week. Once they know, then I can tell my co-workers and then manager, in that specific order. And manager is lucky she's getting a week's notice. But until I can meet with my docs, I have to suffer in silence while I prepare them as much as possible without them knowing.

A-GO-NY.

My last day's next Friday, July 18th. FO' SHO'.

I scheduled an appointment with a friend/life coach next week to discuss setting up a loose plan for the six months. I've started the process to get insurance through the MA marketplace. I enrolled in a workshop for managing ADHD. I've started a list of fun things I want to do. I've started -- well, it started after dad died -- a list of things that need to get done.

Let's fucking gooooooooooo.