A Much-Needed Walk


As I’ve told you before, I really hate my day job as a medical transcriptionist. The worst part about it is the lousy pay. In fact, lousy is too light a word. Insulting is more appropriate. My employer had the audacity to call me on Saturday. Now, I don’t work on Saturday, being a Sabbath-keeping Christian, and she has known this for 12 years. Nonetheless, she rang my phone off the hook Saturday morning; and when I didn’t answer, she started on my cell phone, finally leaving a voice message and an email.

I responded to her email, reminding her that it was the Sabbath, and asked why taking care of the issue that was so important to her that it warranted (in her mind) violating my religious convictions. The fact that I work the other six days of the week just didn’t matter to her.  She had lost the files I sent over a couple of weeks ago. Mind you, the files were for a doctor she has repeatedly told me is not important and does not pay his bills on time. I sort of lost my cool at that point and let her know what I thought about the situation.

Of course I still have a job. I’m extraordinarily good at it. It’s just that every time I say I want better pay, I get a list of excuses, usually centering on the doctors’ unwillingness to pay more. One day soon, maybe by this time next year, I hope to be able to say, “I quit,” and turn to writing full time.

Well, by Sunday I was pretty much stuck in a rather deep funk. It was a beautiful day, so I cut my workday short and my husband and I went to the park for a nice long walk. During our walk, I took the photo you see at the top of this post. Autumn is in all it’s glory right now.  I know I’ve been terribly cooped up lately, working extra hours to make ends meet (my husband lost his job last month); but I didn’t realize how bad it was until we got home from the park and I had to step inside the house again. I didn’t think this tiny house could feel even smaller, but it did.

I have slipped back into that pit of not being able to write. I know my currently untreated depression is largely responsible, coupled with the financial stress we’re under. On the other hand, my brain comes up with story ideas every now and then. I dutifully jot them down on one of the color-coded index cards in the purple box on my desk.

Right now, I can’t break loose from the circumstances surrounding me. I can’t work on those ideas in the purple box today, but I can keep putting ideas in the purple box.



3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Helen Pollard
    Oct 22, 2014 @ 19:12:23

    It’s hard doing a job with rubbish pay and feeling unappreciated. Hopefully once you are refreshed, you will get back your ‘writer mojo’ and that will make up for the day job …


  2. mlrover
    Nov 04, 2014 @ 11:27:21

    My email was backlogged and I’m so sorry I didn’t see this earlier. Sending prayers your way. Writing is hard enough without the pressures of life intruding. When I get down in the ugly pits, I keep reminding myself that it has to get better some day. I also work in healthcare and there are only a few states, like WI, where the pay is equal to the work. Hang in there. You’re a good writer!!!


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