I sent that in a text to my partner the other day, when I was on the train to work. And I do. I just don’t know what I hate about it. He didn’t respond, but that evening he said to me, “You need to figure out what it is that you hate about it and start fixing it.”
And I resented that. Because I know that already. I resented the fact that he can’t see that I have been desperately trying to “fix” it for the past god-knows-how-many years, but I go nowhere. I still feel lost and directionless.
I don’t even know what it is that I hate, really. Well, I hate having to go out to work, that’s for sure. I hate being one of the people in suits and heels trundling along the platform and jostling for the best position in the train of a morning/afternoon. My job is okay, I guess, but I hate the need for it. I hate being one of thousands of people all doing the same thing. I hate making meetings for people so that they can set agendas for other meetings. I hate having to get up at 5.45. I hate that my weekends are almost always spent at home in front of the tv or computer once the running around after the kid activities is over with. I hate that I have no friends that I can catch up with on my days off; that there is no-one that I can even think of to go for a coffee with. I hate housework.
I hate that I’m just existing and not living. I hate that I can’t find myself something that brings me true joy, that is just for me, so instead I go shopping to give myself a lift.