At what price.... ?

I got a late start blog-hopping today. Today is a day I'd planned to skip writing my own but read this entry at Hel's site, Truth Cycles, and decided I have something to say after all.

In the post, she describes how she feels about her day-to-day job and how she wants to escape. Other bloggers have written similar sentiments.

And, oh God Almighty, how I understand it!

I remember back to June 2004, the month I realized that continuing life on the hamster wheel would kill me. No metaphor. No hyperbole. I was dying. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Spiritually. Perhaps there are a few others who read here who know the physical sensation of the body beginning to eat itself.

I wouldn't have given you a dime for my life.

Day after day, I drove I-50 between Sacramento and Rancho Cordova in commute-time traffic. I remember praying that I would have a heart attack and die. As far as I knew, there was no other way out.

By some people's standards, I had a reasonably good job. I was an Information Technology professional. I wasn't getting rich but didn't have too much to complain about financially. My bills were getting paid.

And the weird thing is that I am not a lazy person. Just because I'm fat doesn't mean I'm lazy! :) Most of this glorious blubber comes from my body's effort to create a shield between me and those toxic environments that threatened to suck the soul out of me, day after dreary, endless day. Seriously. That's when I packed on the weight. It started around 1998 which in retrospect is probably the time when I began to get very sick.

I don't remember smiling much... or laughing much. My life was drudgery. Nothing more. Nothing less. There was no refuge because I didn't have the energy to create it.

I found it spiritually offensive to be participating in the cycle of consumerism, the worship of the Almighty Buck, regardless of how it harmed me or anyone else. There was something about being in an environment that encouraged deception, competition, trickery, oppression, market values and mindless conformity that made me heartsick.

By the time mid-2004 arrived, I was already well on my way downhill. My health was failing. I had blinding, bone-crushing depression and, seriously, the only thing I really wanted was the final peace of oblivion. If this was to be life, I didn't want it.

In this culture where human value is determined by economic and social status, making the final decision to file for federal disability benefits wasn't easy. It's not that I shared that value system but those around me did. It took six months to get approval. I was approved the first time. (Those who know the system are aware of how unusual that is... Most people battle the system for years. That is an indication of how seriously sick I was.. )

These days, my life isn't perfect. There are many things I'd like to do that I am no longer able to do. Looking at it, I realize that a large part of my aversion to being "out in the world" comes from the battering and abuse I took in those places. Meaningful work is important for all of us. Purpose. Meaning. And I don't mean contributing to the economy. I mean just what I said... meaning. Mine has to be created within the context of my current limitations. I might just decide to take up weaving... or maybe take my writing a bit more seriously. Maybe I'll make a "career" of just being the best person I can be and be of service to others on an individual-to-individual basis, on a smaller scale. My life is, by necessity rather than design, a fairly narrow one. I am no longer able to work outside the home. I am permanently shell-shocked.

This began as a long "comment" in response to Hel's post. I would encourage her to get out now while she can before becoming a 52-year old complete burnout. The stakes are a lot higher then. And the recovery is far more difficult. Listen to the call of your soul. It knows best.

I'd also be curious to know how others survive workplace culture. This is something perhaps all of us can find of value.


Peace,

~Chani