Burnout

So It is official. I can't stand my job.

I go through this periodically. I have read that it is because I put a lot of myself in my work and care too much. I don't know if that is true. I just know that I am sick and tired of working somewhere where I really don't make a difference. I don't do anything really worth while for my guys at my job.

Let me explain, cuz I am feeling the need.

I once had the perfect job. Really. It was the hardest, most physically and emotionally demanding job I have ever worked at, but it was perfect. P.E.R.F.E.C.T. Every day, I knew that no matter how hard I worked or how badly things went, I had accomplished something wonderful.

I made sure someone had a hot meal who otherwise may have resorted to cold cereal or a sandwich or (heaven forbid) gone hungry. I made someone smile. I gave someone the opportunity to socialize. I listened to someone talk who maybe didn't get that very often. I made sure someone was warm when it was cold outside. I helped someone bathe who couldn't do it on their own. I took someone to a Dr. appt that they needed. I showed someone I cared. I checked up on them, loved them, made them my family.

I don't have that anymore. The time came when the need for the almighty $$ overcame my desire to be a part of something so unconditionally worth while. Really, I can't regret it. We were in a situation where there really wasn't a choice. Unfortunately, it meant leaving what I loved and taking a position where I am a glorified maid.

I am not saying that my current job is BAD. I just never get the same feeling from it that I used to get from my old job. I don't do anything to make my clients' lives better. I just keep them clean and alive. They aren't really benefited by my presence at all. Anyone could do what I do. Well, except for Ms. Pain in My Ass, Minnie, or the New Staff. Other than that, anyone really could clean and cook for these guys and manage to handle them for an hour in the morning. The guys don't care who it is. The guys don't get any more enjoyment out of life because of me. They are not necessarily safer because of me.

I hate it.

I mean, I really REALLY hate it.

So I have been bugging Mr. Barefoot to let me quit. I know he won't (not that he really could stop me if I just decided not to work), but I have been working on him all the same. What I want is to be a SAHM, at least until Little Sprout starts school. Then I figure I can go back to work where I like to work when the need for daycare is over. Of course, Mr. Barefoot would never agree. That means I am stuck where I am at for the foreseeable future.

And I am not happy about it.

Plan B (at least in my mind) is for us to do our best to live on Mr. Barefoot's salary alone. We could do it, theoretically. That way, we could use my check for extra house payments and such in the hopes of becoming 100% debt free that much sooner. I don't think Mr. Barefoot would be really keen on that one, either, but I am hoping to convince him.

Anyway. There isn't really a solution to this problem that I can find. I just wanted to rant for a bit, I guess. Thanks for listening.....