I always feel like hate is a word that should be reserved for only very extreme circumstances. But it applies in this instance. I hate it here. The walls feel like they close in on me. I don’t care about what I’m doing. And it’s not like it’s some sort of incredible philanthropic work or anything…but regardless, I should care. I don’t.
Only it’s not true that I don’t care about any of this because if i didn’t, then I wouldn’t hate it. I would be apathetic but I wouldn’t hate it. Hating it means I care. And when I realize that, I get mad at myself.
Why should I care about anything at a place that involves people that I don’t really respect or like?
And then it hits me.
I don’t care about this place or this job. I care about the effect it’s had on me – being someplace where I don’t feel valued. I care because I want to be acknowledged for my abilities and for my intellect. I want to be given the opportunity to make contributions. I want to be told that I matter – that having me here makes a difference. But if I’m being honest, I know full well that it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter because no one has been smart enough to utilize me. No one has been smart enough to allow me to spread my wings. I have asked for more, I have attempted to involve myself. I have fought to be involved so that I could do more, could give more. I went to one of the top schools in the country for Christ’s sake and still, I have to be babysat on everything that I am given to do…EVEN THOUGH I consistently do it well.
Lazy thinking people who can’t see the forest for the trees. That’s who I work for. But not for long.
