I quit my job.
I had to, there was no other way. I can barely hobble around my house much less try to go to work and sit for 8 hours at a stretch with no medication. I can’t keep calling in day after day and then go to the ER every three days to provide notation of my situation. It’s just not fair to anyone, myself or my employer.
Thankfully the call center manager understood when I talked to her. She said she’d process my paperwork as rehire-able so that when I got better I can get my job back.
This is better than waiting to be fired. One, I don’t need another termination on my record and two, I can go back when my situation/circumstances change. As in the past, it takes anywhere from six weeks to about three months for my back to “heal” from one of these episodes – and that’s with complete rest rather than trying to maintain a job.
I hate to do it, especially knowing the pressure it puts on Steven, but maybe I can find something to do from home – maybe invest more in my writing, etc – to help him out.
God, this is bringing up a lot of issues in me… the sense of failure, the sense of ultimate vulnerability… putting my survival in the hands of someone else. Even though that someone else is my husband who has done more than his share taking care of me these last four years than he probably ever signed on to.
And God knows he isn’t making me feel guilty about it in any way. He told me I held out longer than he thought I would.
I can’t stand the thought of letting anyone down. And that’s what I feel I’ve done.
But it was the right thing to do, I just pray God’ll see us through the next few months because they’re going to be a little hairy.