When All Else Fails....

....take a Mental Health day.

Which is exactly what I find myself doing this very Wednesday.

I'm a Life Coach and a writer; I am currently getting paid to do these things, but only enough--at the moment--to consider these both "side" jobs, and I dislike that fact enormously. So I tend to fume and moan and bitch considerably and THEN make new, good steps towards The Prize, and yes, at least--at least--I am getting paid to do what I love, what really satisfies my spirit and my heart. There is that.

But, like a really, really good dessert, the amounts of either are sadly limited and remain in the realm of the somewhat rarified. For now.

So. This means that other sources of income are necessary. No, I don't sell plasma, and my ovum are way too ripe to proffer to a desperate-yet-wealthy Yuppie couple intent on shelling their own brood. I have a day job.

A soul-sucking, dull-beyond-words, paper-pushing absolutely NOT gratifying corporate day job in a Tax & Customs department at a local, currently badly-flailing company. I have been there going on year 2, which is how much they like me. So much, in fact, I've been asked if I might consider a career in Customs. It's all I can do to not roll my eyes heavenward and smirk outright. So I blink demurely a few times and widen my eyes and, drumming up as much drippy sincerity as possible, say, "Oh, I'm flattered....." and smile pleasantly, letting an abject silence befall the proceeding.

At which point the hopeful manager looks at me utterly agog (I mean, what? Really? You're eschewing a Good Job with Company X to pursue your esoteric, woo-woo hippie Life Coaching pipe dreams? Surely you jest, you shortsighted featherhead!) and says, "But that's all, right?"

And I continue smiling weakly until we part ways, not a bit closer to understanding one another's objectives/driving motivations/life's goals/core values whatsoever. Not even a smidgen.

But now, I'm finding it hard to show up even vaguely interested. Showing up vertical is, most days, a complete coup. A huge part of my weighty lack of enthusiasm stems from the fact this company is, as I mentioned, suffering mightily during this rough economic downturn. There are weekly rumors of impending "Big Announcements," about which much speculation ensues--that we're going to a mandatory 4-day workweek (score!); that everyone is being moved to headquarters and vacating the current premises; that such a big chunk of the company has been bought by the United Arab Emirates that any hopes of moving into the future "Green" are now shot completely, since the Sheiks love their oil; and who knows what else.

Stress prevails; a guard has been posted by the back elevator since (more speculation) angry, gun-toting former employees could potentially return for a little payback action, and various coworkers have been out for days with a variety of illnesses, including highly-contagious Walking Pneumonia (but who knew! She thought she just had a wee cough as she robustly spewed the infection through the recirculated office ventilation system); guts rumble mightily in neighboring stalls whenever I repair to the bathroom to take a mere pee, making even those few minutes of public respite a miserable God-awful experience.

The only glint of periodic employee happiness comes from the Mountain Man, a mobile candy vendor who comes by weekly with his sugary wares. It's like the Pied Piper, or the Second Coming of Christ, or at the very least, Robert Pattinson surrounded by hormonal 14-year-old girls at a Twilight screening. Nevermind that an office full of angry, sedentary, skeetchy middle-aged employees with stress-compromised immune systems and the very likely potential for Adult Onset Diabetes don't need to dip their hands into various over-prices baggies of repackaged candies (emotional eating, anyone?) It helps them get through their days, I get it...as do the regularly-scheduled runs for coffee, the lunch outings and the routing of birthday cards (and highly-anticipated afternoon cakes, replete with warbled "Happy Birthday" song) forcibly scrawled with platitudes of fake glee and camaraderie.

Am I bitter? Am I burned out? Yes. And yes.

Hence, the Mental Health day. When even two Al-Anon meetings in the course of 8 hours don't snap me out of it, it's time to stay home. And stay in bed.

And in indulge in a rather collegiate lunch that consisted of a pile of leftover Tater-Tots from last night's dinner, and two Tofutti Cuties, both of which deeply satisfied my monthly hormonal yen for something fatty & salty and also something sweet.

But lest you think I'm hurtling into middle-aged female curmudgeonliness, let me acknowledge today's bright spot: the logo for my Life Coaching biz was finished and forwarded to me by my talented graphics-designing friend, and soon, it will make its "official" debut on the 'net. In the meantime, I will say that it makes me smile with pride each time I see it--it evokes exactly what I need it to.

It is a sweet, charming, professional little reminder that there is actually something meaningful towards which I am working when I arise at 6:30 (okay, 6:40) each morning and ready myself to head off to a day job that offers very little other than a paycheck.

Eyes on the Prize, baby. Eyes on the Prize.