“…won’t work if we do not know the process by heart…”
This is part of an email I received this morning from my team leader regarding an error I committed for my task yesterday. Apparently, she’s become fed up already after receiving comments lately from the client. As a result, she had to issue a discussion log, or in simpler terms a memo, for me. My first. My painful, heart-wrenching first.
When I started in this job in job last December from a long break for most of last year, I was as optimistic as a newbie can be, although this new job was practically the same nature as my job of three years which I left in February last year, only with better conditions, a slightly higher pay, so on. While I hoped for positive change in my life, the convenience convinced me to take the familiar and safe route again.
Now five months past and a month to go before I can be considered for regularization, I am having doubts, AGAIN.
What used to be optimism is now fear, anxiety. I fear that I will be locked up in the same situation as before – a situation I have decided to break free from last year. The thought of being legally committed into a bond for a period of time and confined in a place I don’t belong to, makes me feel sick.
Familiar feelings creeping through.
The cold air from the AC is creeping through my arms, into my shoulders. My mouth is drying up, frozen and my fingers ticking the keyboard for random words are turning dark. Familiar coldness.
“What do you really want?” Not once did somebody ask me this. I tried to find an answer. I may have found it. I may not. I can’t tell. I do not know. Yet. Or never will. And this is envy – of those who can go for the things they love, or appear to love, and those who can love what they do. Life was never fair. Never was. Never will be.
I have hoped things will change for the best around me. Maybe they did. Maybe they will.