"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best." ~ Marilyn Monroe Embrace your worst self today. 10 minutes. Write.

I had put off answering this question for awhile, but today seems to be the perfect day for it. I'm ready to let it all hang out here. I just came off an 11-day Christmas break and it's the first day back at work. Coming down from the weekends is tough enough for me--I seem to have a hard time sleeping on Sunday nights anticipating the work week ahead. But the recovery from long vacations and holidays is even rougher. I love my long Christmas breaks, but I sure do get used to spending the days how I want to spend them and not having to account to anyone else.

So, yeah, I'm at my worst today. I'm cranky, irritable, resentful, and bitter. Rather than being grateful for the time off, I'm just wishing I could retire. Hasn't 35 years been long enough to work? Long enough to have given the majority of my time and practically my soul to an employer? I'm 58 years old now, why is it that I'm still answering to someone else and having to show up at 8:00 am to a job that I really don't care about? To sit for 8 hours in windowless offices where I don't know whether it's a beautiful sunny day or if there's a monsoon raging outside? Working for a miniscule salary that a teenager might make in another part of the country--the same salary that I made in 1979 in California? Earning wages that don't reflect the fact that I have a degree and have been employed for 35 years? Come on!

Luckily, I can put on a friendly face to my fellow employees and converse with them about our Christmas vacations like all is right in my world. I mean, it's not their fault. Most of them are in their 30s and 40s so their working lives aren't nearly as long as mine is right now and they aren't quite as burned out yet. And most of them have never worked anywhere else other than middle Georgia and they don't know that they're paid pauper's wages.

Before I left the house this morning I asked my husband (who's home sick with a cold) how much longer we have to wait until we retire. After he finished chuckling, he said that at best it will be another two years. *sigh*  I'm ready now. I'm tired. I've paid my dues and deserve my freedom at long last!

OK, I've let out the ugly stuff now and I do feel better!