I put myself in a bit of a slump this weekend with my Father’s Day post. The effects of writing about not-so-pleasant memories drained my ambition. I started to feel down on myself. Anything people said, wrote, or messaged me- felt like a personal attack.
The difficulty I faced was wanting to quit. Quit writing. Quit working. Quit cleaning. Just quit everything and stay curled up in bed. That was Monday. Today is getting better. I had a really good nightshift with some great coworkers who had no idea I felt like crap. All it took was hearing great stories, listening to the laughter, and seeing the smiles on the guys who just love life. Getting up and going to work lifted my spirits. I can see why some guys never want to retire.
On an unrelated note- there are a few people that tolerate me or I tolerate them for the sake of the job. I’m cool with that. Just check your baggage at the door and we can make it through the day safely. No need for you or I to be a-holes to one another. We are adults and need to adult all adult-like.
In conclusion: work makes me happier-ish.