The night before last, I had several dreams. The theme was cannibalism – an entity savagely eating itself. The night before I had a dream of the foster mom cat from the clinic being brutally murdered.
These are dreams warning me of what is happening at work. Yeah, not nice dreams but on the whole typical of my dream life which likes to deliver scary stories as life lessons. I know the end of the story that is playing out now. That is what 50 years of life provides – experience and, if you learn from it, wisdom.
I will do my best to carry on. Overall, I like my job and it is convenient. I like the people I work with and I like our clients. But I do not have stars in my eyes from some mistaken belief that I can sacrifice enough, on my own, to save a business. If my boss doesn’t commit 100%, nothing I can do will turn the tide.
I no longer climb up onto the stone altar, take the knife, and cut out my own warm, still beating heart to deliver to an employer. Those days are long past and my chest bears the scars of the many times that knife was self-plunged. It has never been worth it and frankly, I’m too damn old to put up with this foolishness and drama.