So, I may have a problem.
I work at a grocer. I got hired as a bagger but I’m currently the only working sanitizer, which means I spend all day wiping down carts and baskets and telling people which ones have been wiped down.
It’s a great job, really. I have a great manager and great coworkers. Since I don’t have to go to school right now I have an open schedule. It’s close to my grandma’s house, who I see often. It should be close to fucking perfect, all things considered.
But it isn’t. It’s tiring, cart after cart after cart. It’s painful and leaves my feet sore and my back aching and my wrists fucking screaming at me because I hurt one in December and apparently you have to treat injuries or they don’t get better and the other one’s just a little bitch sometimes. And don’t even get me started on the wind and drafts the doors blow right in my face. And god fucking damnit does the cold make all my “little” aches and injuries a whole lot bigger.
It was only today that I found out I got a lunch break, and it was only yesterday that I learned I got any breaks at all between my eight hour shift. Since everyone’s so out of workers they skipped my training entirely and now I’m struggling to catch up. I’m constantly asking people what to do or struggling to figure it out myself and there’s no one around to help me. A common theme in my life, but fucking seriously?
And it’s stressful. If it was just physically taxing I could probably deal, but the mental toll is effecting me outside of work. It’s all I can think about. I try to go to sleep and I’m wiping down carts. I turn my head and I’m daydreaming quitting. I only started a week ago, and I still can’t fucking remember to bring my jacket.
And from where I’m at, I’m constantly switching between total isolation and a bombardment of people. It’s impossible to set a pace for. I’ve already been so wrecked from the loss of my routine (because apparently that’s way more important than I thought).
I keep forgetting the names of things and how to hold a conversation. Yesterday, I couldn’t talk at all for a solid hour, and that’s never happened before in my life. Sure, when I get caught off guard I get flustered and panicky, but it never just stops. Every moment is spent in a mixture of trying to disassociate and having a panic attack while I try to work.
The only fucking thing that’s been helping me get through my day is whenever I see a little kid get sat down in a cart I’ve wiped down because I know it’s safer for them and they’re not as at risk anymore. But fucking god. I don’t even know why I’m doing this.
It’s not like I need the money urgently. It’s not like I need to work now. Honestly, I’m more at risk than most of the people shopping here, with asthma and allergies and god’s shitty sense of humor.
But my dad’s so fucking proud of me and my brother for getting our shit together. My brother’s working at a different grocer and having the time of his life. And I’m supposed to be the one that’s more reliable, responsible, trustworthy. And I like the people I work with, they’re so fucking nice. I’m just not ready to be an adult. (Will I ever fucking be?)
And I tend to do that a lot, to get so hyped up that I jump headfirst into something and overwhelm myself so I have to pull back. But god dammit am I tired of fucking everyone up. I just.
I don’t even know anymore.
I’m behind in schoolwork and I just want to lay down and not wake up for a long fucking time. I’m constantly saying, “It’s nap time,” but what I really mean is, “Can I please not be awake for this?” Everything’s falling apart and the world’s ending and I’m all by myself in a hellscape of my own making. I just want to be okay, but I’m not even sure that’s possible. I don’t fucking know what to do.
