Ya know what I think, I think work should be enjoyable. I mean, you spend an inordinate amount of time there right, you shouldn't hate it, it shouldn't drive you to the depths of mental despair and physical breakdown. That's why I quit in the first place, because I didn't want to be miserable.

So why the fuck am I taking a job (pending satisfactory references of course) that I know I will hate, because already, it is making me feel that trembly helplessness of entrapment. I am looking towards Monday with a certain amount of genuine fear. I don't think I can do it, don't think I can maintain the pretense. I honestly am scared for my sanity. And it's not just because it's a kitchen job.

See let me explain. As far as cooking jobs go, this is a low stress one, cooking for old people in a nursing home. I know I am more than capable of providing them with a tasty and nourishing repast twice a day, of keeping the little kitchen in order. I am even, just a little bit, excited about trying out some new recipes (TYVM crym) because they want me to do afternoon teas. Guess that little cakes and nice desserts will bring a tiny ray of light into the unchanging routine of the residents lives. Still somehow the thought of spending days in my whites again, makes me feel physically sick, the smells and the sounds, the burned hands, the pressure of striving for perfection...I don't want it. And more...this is a home for old and ill people, some are bed-ridden, some can barely walk. All of them shuffle through their day in greyness, no smiles, no inner light, they are....sad. And I don't know, that I can face that, that most of all makes me almost choke.

I don't know why it pains me, perhaps it's the proximity to death, or fear of ever being that way, or maybe it's fear of those I love ending up like that. Seeing it everyday, I don't know that I can do it. I don't know that I can stand them dying. I know I wont be close to them but, every time there is one less meal to cook, it's because someone passed away. Some people can deal with that, maybe they can console themseves knowing they helped them through their last days or maybe they are cold and detached...I don't know. But I know me, and I know....I can't stand that for very long.

I applied for the job in desperation, knowing I had an excellent chance of being the best candidate, I don't think I was feeling like another rejection, or worse, just being ignored. I've taken a huge pay cut, not that money matters really but still, in a way it feels like a backward step. It is a backward step.

I'm trying hard to tell myself, this is a stepping stone to better things, suck it up fucktard....blah...

One day...it'll all be ok...and a distant fading nightmare.....yeah...