i’ve been talking and thinking a lot recently (i know – surprise surprise!) about treatments and work and how the two impact each other, and i think i had a bit of an ah-ha moment. it almost feels like (most of) the stress just melts away the more i think about it: i can’t control how this affects my job. i can’t pick the days i take off. i can’t make the powers that be ignore my absences (and hopeful pregnancy for those that know that much) when they decide to give me tenure.
and i don’t care.
i love my job. i miss it when i’m on vacation. if i were independently wealthy and had no worries about bills, i would still do it. and i am definitely one of those people that takes care of everyone else before myself.
but this is more important. i would pick family over work any day of the week. if they don’t rehire me, we’ll survive. it will suck, but the world won’t crash down around us.
so i’m not going to worry anymore. i’m not going to feel guilty. i’m not going to wonder what all of my many supervisors think about me.
easier said than done, right?