on considering early retirement

[anirbas]

tired of this graceless place
I search for an abyss of peace
some endless quiet chasm
I can fall into and disappear
from the slavering rat race

I grow weary of this vile track
fraught with new obstacles per course
exhausted now I can't jump the hurdles
my feet hate me my back screams in agony
I am heart shattered spirit sundered

I want to step off of the beaten path
barefoot in the lush jungle green grass
watering lipstick red cannas listening
to the bouncing bubbles of my granddaughter's
laughter playing with her puppies in the sunshine

tired of this graceless place
I search for an abyss of peace
some endless quiet chasm
I can fall into and disappear
from the slavering rat race

I wish nothing more than to go to ground

[heartfelt7]

Gosh, how I can relate to this - I still feel relief for leaving a job I should have left sooner. And as for grandchildren, well, they make everything better somehow. I'm old now, aching and cranky from a year of covid rules, and yet when I took the grandchildren to the public pool yesterday, I didn't care that I was bursting out of my old bathing suit. And I don't care today that not only muscles, but my hands ache from clapping and my lips ache from smiling. It's a different kind of I don't care from the job I didn't care about. It's an "I don't care about anything but them."

[anirbas]

"I don't care about anything but them."

Oh, how I can relate to that line. I have learned that about myself, as well. I do only care about my granddaughter and grandson,
my daughter and son and their chosen significant others.


I'm not yet old enough to retire, regardless of probably being physically ill enough to do so. I have been struggling to maintain a full time work
schedule since 2012, followed by 2013, when I was finally diagnosed with this disease, I named Grrretchen, because the agonizing bitch is here to stay;
no matter the plethora of pain management drugs I throw at her, five to date, I am beginning to grow weary of fighting her nasty butt and working full time.
(Gotta love a run-on sentence hehe) When I am away from work, I take half the amount of drugs, as I do on a work day. Though the job I hold down is to perform
the lightest of duties.

I can retire from the company I work for at fifteen years, which will be next July, but, I will not be old enough to draw any kind of social security
for several more years. If, and that's a big IF, I stepped out and apply for disability as The Hubs wants me to do, as you and I know, I'd have to quit
my job first and have my doctor sign off on it. It's such a pain in the bum to work one's way through the red tape of applying for and getting
disability in this country.

But, the facts are, at home, I take half as much drugs. And I rarely must use a walking aid, my bestie, my sweet purple and black cane. I cannot get through
a work day without my loyal cane at work. It's the dratted concrete floors. And I must do a lot of walking in there. Without my cane, I can only do my
"Geisha" walk as I call it. Tiny, shuffling steps that irritate the Texas hell outta me. I can get around better with my bestie. Make no mistake,
with this disease, I've got to walk, got to move. It's the dratted concrete floors.

Just being home when I have to call out, with Lydia and David and our two cats and Ivy and Jaxson's 3 dogs, while those two work,
I am always laughing. Makes me feel better.

At work, everyone is overworked and stressed to the max and in nasty little moods, as a result. Then you have the few that must always keep
crap going by starting crap in the first place. Their energy is draining. I am drained enough by pain, lack of sleep, brain fog, nasty flares
and I am so over the dramafest. I just want to sit up in the middle of the night, reading, writing, watching whatever the heck I want.
Sleep till midday while David takes the first shift with Lydia, get up, and take the second shift till her Mommy and Dada get home.
I can handle that plan. I am beginning to understand, that is fast becoming all I can handle.


All that remains, is to figure out how to put that plan into action and still come up with enough money to make mine and David's part of the bills
and rent in the house the five of us share- my daughter, her fiance', Lydia, David and myself.

My dear Heart, I do apologize for my venting and whining. And also spilling a bit of tea about my fellow employment trench buddies. I am following
in your footsteps, as soon as possible.