One door closes

A world of opportunity opens up…

And I’m terrified by it.

Today I finished working at the factory I’ve worked at for six years, one month and one day.

Yes, I have been keeping careful count.

It’s not been a fantastic six years. I’ve had two episodes of depression, one of which I’m still receiving treatment for; fallen badly on a wet floor, which meant I was off sick for two months during which time I was bullied by the management who tried to make me take the blame; I’ve had to give up my one and only sport, archery, and my allotment. I’ve been cold, wet and miserable; had accidents on my scooter trying to get to work in winter; been severely broke for years, and seen my twenties disappear.

But the last fifteen months have been the best. I got to spend my weeks doing whatever I liked while working weekends, so lots of reading, writing, studying and embroidery. In the last few months I’ve worked nearly full time, and moved in to technical administration. I’ve worked with a very old friend and met new people. It’s been interesting, a real insight in to industrial food production.

And now it’s all over.

I’m, I don’t know, relieved? I felt trapped at the factory, doomed to spend my days hunting bones out of fish and avoiding mardy managers. I’m free.

And scared.

How will I survive if I don’t find work soon?

Thing is, I’m torn in two. I need to work; if a job comes up I have to take it, partly because E will punch me if I’m offered a job and turn it down, but mainly because I have debts to pay and I need to find a home of my own.

But. My dad has arranged some work experience for me, with his employer. It may lead to a permanent position. It could be something good, a great opportunity to learn, make contacts, find a permanent position.

But what if…what if…I get offered a job elsewhere, that isn’t particularly what I want, but provides the income I need…what if I lose the opportunity offered by dad’s company that’ll provide long term satisfaction because of short term gain.

I’m terrible at making these decisions, terrified that I’ve made the wrong choice. So far my life seems to have been a succession of bad choices. But not choosing would be worse.

Not surprisingly the last few days have been difficult.

Thursday was a bad day; I had to go in to the agency cabin to find out what I do now that I’m no longer needed in the technical department. I can’t work in factories any more – the cold and damp play merry hell with my asthma, everyone gets sick and passes their diseases on to me, and that environment is a major trigger for my anxiety and depression, so there’s no place for me there anymore.

Until Thursday it didn’t feel real, but going to the cabin and confronting the situation threw it in my face. I was a mess and Rach, the QA manager let me go home early. I text my dad then spent the rest of the day watching series two of the Walking Dead.

It helped slightly.

Today, Friday, I was fine until I came to say goodbye to my colleagues. I just couldn’t tear myself away. I did though. I clocked off for the last time, binned my boots and emptied my locker.

A wrench and a relief.

I have a few things I want to look in to, a few jobs I need to apply for. I hope I won’t be out of work for long but the next job needs to be something I can enjoy.

Published by

R Cawkwell

Hi I'm Rosemarie and I like to write. I write short stories and longer fiction, poetry and occasionally articles. I'm working on quite a few things at the minute and wouldn't mind one day actually getting published in print.

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