I meant to write this Monday night, but by the time I got home I was done.
Then i tried to write it Tuesday night, but by the time I got home I was done. Again. Just done.
I was going to talk about driving home in the rain Monday night. How when I left work I was in a torrential downpour, and how the rain became a drizzle, then a mist, then nothing. Then I noticed the pavement getting progressively drier as I made my way home, to the point where the roads were completely dry when I pulled up to the house.
I have no idea what it meant to me at the time. If I had written this post when I should have, something profound would have come out of me. Now, three days later, I have nothing.
I have something else, though.
My job isn’t physical. I sit in a cubicle for 8 hours. Nothing cool, nothing, glamorous, nothing to work up a sweat about. The job isn’t even difficult, I can literally do it in my sleep (and yes, yes I have) but what wears me out is the mental aspect of being so helpful all the time.
By nature I am a naturally helpful person. I like helping people, but sometimes it gets to the point where I am drained because some people suck me dry with the help they need. You know, when a friend needs someone to talk to, and you offer advice…but it seems to fall on deaf ears because nothing changes with that person. You have sympathy, and you still try to help but that person still is wallowing in misery. There’s only so much of myself I can give before I turn into an empty vessel full of cobwebs.
That’s how I was feeling Monday when I was driving home in the rain. Empty. Because the person with the issues suddenly got silent and distant, which in turn made me feel stepped on and used. So does the conversations end when the problems are solved, then start up again when problems come ’round?
Is that what I’m good for?