It has been over three months since I came back to work. Three months. A quarter of a year.
I like the work I’m doing. It is fascinating and fun and challenging enough to keep me interested but not so much that I’m crumbling under the pressure. I like the people I work with too. They are all smart and fun-loving.
The work I do is not going to save anybody’s life. It won’t make anyone’s dreams come true (except those of companies whose profits will swing higher). Occasionally I do think of what I’m doing and why I do it. More now than ever I notice people begging, children selling newspapers and victims of crime. I rationalize telling myself that I can’t solve any of the world’s problems.
My job doesn’t even deal with writing, which is something I have discovered is more a passion than a mere hobby with me. Still, satisfaction just means that one’s needs are met adequately. Completeness can come later. Maybe someday I will do something more meaningful.
Each day is a new lesson to learn. Once I had to learn how to stop clinging to pain, how to walk away from a bad situation. Now I need to learn how to be okay with things being okay. It seems odd but I still have to learn how to feel happy without feeling guilty about it.