Stressing out

Stress is a funny thing. Most of the time I deal with it pretty well. Living with four women should prepare me fairly well for stressful situations, but there’s a completely different type of stress at home than there is at work.

I’ve worked for the same company for nineteen years, which is pretty hard for me to believe. Up until last year I had still been looking for that thing I wanted to do when I grew up, but one day it finally it hit me that I was probably doing it. That’s a sobering realization. You always imagine that there is something better out there. You fool yourself into thinking that you are just paused on a stepping stone…but then you open your eyes and realize that there aren’t any more stones.

Lacking stones gives you a new perspective. You begin to appreciate the tiny piece of granite you are standing on a little bit more. Actually, I don’t know if “appreciate” is the right word, but there are less moments where you simply take it for granted, and many more where you desperately cling to it in fear that it will go away and you will freefall into oblivion.

This week has been particularly difficult, dealing with various personalities, egos, psychos and idiotic behavior. It’s a fine line to walk and try to make everyone happy when they start out at a place of discontent. It’s also a time when every decision is second guessed. I don’t care how confident you are in your job skills or how well you do in yearly performance evaluations; no one likes to be under a microscope. The big blinking eye on the other side of the glass is like the sun, making you sweat and seeming to have the intention of burning you to a crispy char.

I worry about my job more than I used to. Every night there seems to be more bad news about the economy and rising unemployment. It’s not a good time to lose a job. I have a mortgage and other bills, college for three kids to plan for and hopefully a lengthy, relaxing retirement to enjoy with my wife. I am an aging man with diminishing skills and a relative disinterest in learning something new. That’s not exactly the profile most companies are anxious to hire.

I’m also getting to the age that I have no desire to look for a new job. I’m not that ambitious. I’ve grown comfortable in my job, which is both good and dangerously bad. I take pride in my work, and for the most part I enjoy what I do, but like everyone, there are days…or weeks…and sometimes years that test the ability to endure.

So I stress a bit about it all, just like I worry over my kids and Connie. I wake up at 3am with the sudden jagged thought that I may have missed something important or made an error in judgment. After staring wide-eyed into the darkness contemplating that for a while, I settle into the more worrisome thoughts of “can I do this for eleven more years?”

I have no idea. I don’t have a master plan. I don’t even have a simple set of notes scribbled on a napkin. My plan is to stay on my solitary stone and not fall off. All I have to do is keep my balance.