...Practically from birth, he was prone to sudden wild shifts in mood--spiking and flat, ecstatic and melancholy--and many a mood swing was brought on by even a light change in weather. A sudden cloud over the sun could mean despair. A change of wind might turn him toward melancholy as if he had scented grief...
I understand White's quicksilver temperament. I think most people of artistic bent have that proclivity toward wild shifts in mood. As the passage says, grief is simply part of the territory for writers. It served White well as an adult, judging by the passages about the death of Charlotte in Charlotte's Web. They're beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.
The last few days, I've been all over the place with my moods. Monday, I was simply unhinged. Tuesday wasn't much better, although the shock of the news about my job had begun to sink in. Today, I'm at the anger stage of grief. I'm pissed at everything and everybody. I'm sure I'll reach acceptance at some point. Not tonight.
I'm just plain tired of all this feeling. Anger to sadness to exhaustion to anger again. I want to have a normal day, where I don't spend all my time fretting about the future. That's not easy to do. I haven't found any job postings that sound promising. The problem is that, if I don't find another position within 90 days, the hospital will offer me a job, and, if I turn down that job, I can't collect any kind of unemployment. So, no matter what, I will be employed, even if it's doing something I absolutely hate.
That's just one of my fears. I always believed I wasn't going to work in the medical office forever. I never wanted to be a medical records clerk in perpetuity. However, I also believed it would be my choice when to leave. I hate not having a choice.
Right now, it feels like Saint Marty is stuck between runny scrambled eggs and lumpy oatmeal.
|Not much of a choice|