I had lunch with two former coworkers, and it has rejuvenated part of my soul. One of the coworkers was driven out by the same supervisor who drove me out; the other coworker is still working there, and can give reports from the inside. I told the one who is still there to tell me only how bad things are since I left: I said I don’t want to know if things are so much better and everyone is like “Oh god, it’s like a wrench has been removed from the cogwheel”/”it’s like a dark cloud has dissipated” or whatever, and she said “Frankly? It is a SHITSHOW.” So gratifying.

In one of the meetings I had with my supervisor before I quit, she implied that I “got to” do all the tasks I wanted to do: I GOT TO do the book drop, I GOT TO do the pick list—like my work was a huge treat. “Implied” is the wrong word: she specifically used the words “you get to,” as part of her explanation why I should not be upset about what I do NOT “get to” do (things like doing my job efficiently and/or in a way that makes sense). MY understanding was that I was doing the work no one else wanted to do, which I had been specifically hired to do: no one applied for that job in-house before it was posted externally; no one ever expressed jealousy of my work; no one eagerly grabbed my shifts when I had to be out; no one expressed resentment at “having to” sit at the desk instead of emptying the bookdrop and doing the shelving. If anything, I received sympathy, which was pleasing because I LIKED my work allotment, and didn’t want to trade any more than they did!

The situation since I left is one that reinforces my take, rather than my supervisor’s take. My tasks are being divided among my former co-workers, and no one wants to do them, and it’s making everyone unhappy. They’re so short-staffed (another employee left the week after I did, for benign, non-supervisor-related reasons) that no time-off requests are being approved, which is ridiculous. (I am of the “No: I am not asking, I am telling you when I will not be able to be at work” mindset in regards to time-off requests for part-time/no-benefits jobs that are not in, say, emergency rooms.) And it’s been a month since I gave my notice, and my supervisor still hasn’t gotten around to posting a job listing—not for my job, and not for the job of the other coworker who left right after me. Is the director noticing this? I hope the director is noticing this. We were ALREADY short-staffed.

Oh!! Also!! Get this: My former coworker reported that my former supervisor wrote to our library’s former director telling her that Swistle left “to spend more time with her husband.” WHAT. That is a BONKERS take. Absolutely bonkers. Beyond bonkers. If she had said “to spend more time with her family,” I would have taken that as a Polite Stand-In Reason—a transparently fake reason, used when one of the parties does not want to say the actual reason, and everyone knows that’s what it is, so it’s not really a lie. But “to spend more time with her husband” is…a bonkers-specific lie. Or…it makes me wonder what the current director told the supervisor about why I was leaving, considering my actual reason for leaving was the supervisor. But WOULD the director give THAT bonkers reason, when there are so many other noncommittal, non-specific options (“for personal reasons,” “to explore other opportunities,” etc.)? I don’t think she WOULD.

The last two mornings I have made an attempt at the 7-minute strength-training workout. I have not tried this routine since before my knee surgery, which was in January of 2025. I can no longer kneel on one knee, which is a big setback. The first day, I had to COMMIT to not letting it drop me into despair. The modifications I need now!!

Already I used an interval timer that gives me 15 seconds between exercises instead of 10, but now even that is not always enough time to get, say, from standing to lying down. Try it: get from standing up to lying on the floor in the correct position to do sit-ups, but one of your knees has to play The Floor Is Lava. Now get from the floor to standing—again without using that one knee. I can do it, but it takes a little time and thought.

Also, even before the knee surgery, I could not do a knee-based push-up; I would WORK ON that for the 30 seconds (e.g., lowering slowly with control, and pushing AS IF I could push myself back up). Now I can’t use the knee. I used to be able to do a knee-based plank; now I can’t, because I can’t kneel on that knee. All push-ups and planks have to be wall/bureau-based standing versions, or maybe I will try using the seat of a chair or something. I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to look into what my options are. This suffuses me with ennui.

At my one-year surgery follow-up, the P.A. wanted and expected me to tell her how much my life has improved since the knee surgery, and it was not an uncomplicated thing to do. Before the surgery, I’d limp while grocery-shopping, and had to actually lean on the cart for support; I would go for a short walk and wonder if I might get stranded because of the knee pain/instability and have to be picked up. So obviously there is significant improvement there: I can now walk like billy-o, for miles! But my knee clicks a little with each step (normal, expected, permanent), and the clicking varies from being almost unnoticeable to feeling gross and disturbing. And moving around in general (like, turning over in bed, or getting in and out of bed, or getting down to or up from the floor) is significantly affected. If I have to do something such as getting under my desk to unplug my computer, I have to really think about it and plan for it, and sometimes I can’t really figure it out and have to have someone else do it. Last summer I went to the lake with friends, and at one point I had to climb into a boat, and I almost couldn’t do it: I got one knee up onto the platform at the back of the boat, and then…what? There are entire swaths of movement where I have to find a new way to do it, using one knee and two hands, and a fair amount of scooting around. It’s like being a toddler again.

And it isn’t just a matter of figuring out ways to do the movements WITHOUT the knee: I also have to SPARE the knee. That is, it’s not just that the knee is Not Helpful; it’s that I have to AVOID it and not accidentally kneel on it. The P.A. and the physical therapist both assured me that I will not DAMAGE the knee by kneeling on it (both of them said breezily that I never really NEED to kneel, and I would like them to try that out in their lives and see how it works for them), but it is very uncomfortable. I feel like I need to say more about how uncomfortable it is, because it is not pain per se (though it can hurt); the feeling is WRONGNESS. Intense wrongness. As if I AM doing harm. Body and mind both revolt at the sensation.

It does help to kneel on something soft, like a crumpled bath towel, which is what I do briefly each week in order to clean around the base of the toilet. But even that feels Pretty Bad, and I can do it only briefly.

For Day One of the 7-minute workout yesterday, I tried doing a knee-plank using one knee, with the other sort of hovering in almost the right position, and that did something to a stomach muscle that does not feel right on Day Two; I skipped the abdominal exercises because those muscles felt not sore but Wronged.

But I do feel good about working on these exercises again—in part BECAUSE I am so unable to do some of them. It feels like I am working on something Useful and perhaps Crucial. It also feels like it’s helping me work on figuring out how to move around differently, now that I need to, so that maybe I can move around more easily and naturally overall. Because pre-surgery I always defaulted to kneeling on my left knee in cases where I would drop to one knee, it took some real mental and physical work to get used to using the other knee; but I DID learn to do that—and I can learn to override the default for other movements, too.

We are in the second week now of me Not Being at the Library and, after the initial high of “I DON’T HAVE TO GO TO WORK!!,” I am in a bit of a slump. It is funny to me that in my last two weeks working there, I thought to myself things such as, “When I’m out of work, I will take really long walks! I will do that strength-training thing again, and restorative yoga! I will clean the whole house, systematically! Maybe I will learn a language!” Ha ha ha! Chucklehead. What I am mostly doing is reading, and scrolling, and feeling dazed.

So that this stage does not pull me down into lethargy and depression, I am thinking of this as a temporary reset and recharge. Yes, I am a frog on a log right now, but it is not indicative of moral failings, or of a pervasive inability to function. No. I am merely spending some time on the charging station. I am recuperating from what was a frankly dreadful experience, despite being mild on the universal spectrum of dreadfulness. I am taking my vitamins and drinking plenty of water and zoning out a little, as one does to fight off an illness.

I am trying to do several small manageable tasks each day, to keep from feeling as if I am someone who cannot even handle small manageable tasks. Today I discontinued a prescription Edward is no longer taking, which was on autofill and required a phone call to remove from autofill. AND I sent a birthday card to a friend, AND I wrote a letter to a former co-worker who writes a piece of snail-mail every single day as a hobby, AND I took those two pieces of mail to the post office as a way to make sure I left the house, AND I dropped off my library books in the bookdrop (TREPIDATION—but I did not see anyone and it was fine), AND on the way home I remembered to stop and put gas in the car! So as you can see, I am killing it and there is no reason for concern.

I think what might help is going back to the chart I used during the pandemic lockdown. I don’t remember the details but can probably find it. I remember it included exercise, reading, some kind of social contact, a household chore, something creative, etc. There are things I won’t do unless compelled by little checkboxes on a chart.

Speaking of dreams, last night I dreamed I accidentally went to work, and had worked for awhile before I remembered I wasn’t supposed to be there. So then I kept trying to leave before I got caught, but kept getting stopped: patron needing help, coworker wanting to talk to me, etc. It ended with my supervisor accusing me of doing it on purpose, and me getting very angry about the accusations—and then I woke up.

One of our cats has been hiding under our bed, which is not typical. Also, he is a boy who likes his chow, and he has not been showing up at meal times. After two days of this, this morning I took him to the vet, and she says his vitals are good and she suspects pancreatitis, which cats can get for a number of reasons, and doesn’t have to be a big deal, especially in a young and otherwise healthy cat. She gave him fluids and a couple of shots (anti-nauseant, anti-inflammatory, vitamin B-complex), and says that if he’s not better by Friday morning she wants to see him again, but that she suspects he’s going to be just fine.

But what I wanted to talk about was that when I called to make the appointment, I started crying on the phone. I was not particularly stressed or upset about the cat; I wanted to take him to the vet, yes, but he DID seem basically okay. The crying started as soon as the nice receptionist asked what was going on with him and I started trying to tell her—which of course initially made her think the situation was much worse than it was. It was embarrassing, and also frustrating.

I feel like perimenopause is really kicking my ass, emotional-regulation-wise. I have long had an issue with choking up when I am trying to talk about anything stressful or even just dramatic, but this is significantly worse than it was. Even with my phone issues, I used to be able to make appointments even for worryingly-sick CHILDREN without choking up. Now my voice starts shaking much earlier and much more easily and for much less reason, and turns to crying much sooner. I also get angry much more quickly and much more severely (e.g., going right to thinking “WE ARE GOING TO HAVE TO GET A DIVORCE!!”). Afterward I will be a little amazed, remembering how mad I got over something relatively minor, and feeling grateful I didn’t do anything rash (e.g., actually saying out loud “WE ARE GOING TO HAVE TO GET A DIVORCE!!”).

I am wondering if hormone replacement therapy would help. It feels like such a huge hurdle, though: I have to find a doctor who doesn’t still believe that debunked study from around 2000, and then I have to find out if they’re covered by my insurance, and then I have to make an appointment, and then I will very likely have to make half a dozen phone calls to straighten out the insurance, and UG.

Actually it doesn’t look all that terrible when I write it out (except for the insurance part, and that might not happen). I have a tab open for finding a menopause-certified doctor, and there are a few within reasonable distance. Probably they take my insurance, which is one of the most common ones. I don’t have a work schedule to work around, so figuring out an appointment time won’t be too difficult. And maybe it will go just fine! Maybe I will like the doctor and they will know just what to do, and the hormones will work, and there will not be too many negative side effects, and I will feel so much better!

Have you dabbled in hormones for perimenopause? WAS it a hurdle? DO you feel so much better? WERE there side effects?

This work situation has made me nearly 100% self-absorbed in recent weeks. I was reading a book about dealing with emotions and stress, and it was like “Hey, are you using mostly I-statements? Are you indulging more than usual in food/alcohol? Have you pretty much forgotten that other people have lives/problems too?” Okay YES. I will work on it. …Soon.

Today, er… (*a moment of self-consciousness*) (*the moment passes*). Today is the first day I would normally be at work, but instead am not. Someone else is making the four trips to the overloaded weekend bookdrop. Someone else is trying to get as much of the pick-list done before 9:30 as possible. Someone else is hearing my supervisor’s voice and seeing her face and dealing with her stressful energy.

I am relieved not to be going in, but I am also feeling a little deflated. I felt possessive of my job in a positive way: like, here I am, doing MY WORK!! this work is MY NICHE and I am good at it!! I am a useful member of this team, and my role is one not everyone would want, and so my work is appreciated by my coworkers who do not WANT to go out to the bookdrop four times like a pack mule!! I may be middle-aged but I can HUSTLE!!

So I’m continuing to be sad that I am no longer doing a job that was such a good fit. I’m continuing to be angry that it was allowed to play out that way. But also: I’m continuing to feel relief that I do not have to go there today. I’m having tea with a coworker later today and we are going to gossip. That is the stated activity: “tea and gossip.” This coworker is a nice balance of looking on the bright side, not getting bogged down in saying negative things about other people, not stressing about work when we’re not being paid to stress about work—but then also believing there’s a time and a place for a little hot tea. She is not a fan of our supervisor either.

I tidied an area near my chair in the living room to make room for a cat nest: we have one cat who doesn’t like to sit on laps but likes to be Near, and my rocking chair didn’t have a Near place. Now there is a place, a nice wide windowsill with a fleecy blanket. But that meant transferring a big pile of to-read books to a side-table that doesn’t have room for them. I am trying to reduce the pile by reading the books, shortest/fastest ones first. I had a book of then-and-now pictures of our town; that one only took an hour or so. There was a Pusheen book I thought I wanted to read but it turns out I just wanted to move it to the shelf with other such books. And then I had one of the latest Roz Chast books, which I’d heard was disappointing, and I love Roz Chast so I’d been putting off being disappointed.

(image from Amazon.com)

I Must Be Dreaming, by Roz Chast

I think going into it with the expectation of disappointment was IDEAL, because then as it turned out I enjoyed it a lot. It’s true I liked it less than her books of just comics, but on the other hand this book felt more personal and more like the author is talking to the reader. It’s about dreams, and one of my favorite parts was where she listed her own Most Common Dreams. The surprise to me was that we didn’t have more overlap. I have never dreamed about being alone at a party! I have never dreamed about a plane crashing in the distance! I have never dreamed about getting a terrible disease!

William was nearby, so I asked him if he’d ever had any of those dreams, and he said no. We both have the “back in school and can’t find my locker/classroom” dream, and we both dream pretty often about elevators: can’t find the right elevator, can’t find the buttons, can’t make the door close, suddenly the elevator is getting smaller or moving sideways or going swoopily fast. We both dream about unusable bathrooms (too gross, missing door, big window, etc.). We both dream about finding a room in the house we’d forgotten about, or even a whole FLOOR of the house that we’ve forgotten about; mine sometimes include the idea of the room being full of special things. I frequently dream that I am pregnant, or that I am in possession of a baby. I used to dream pretty often about children in peril, but now I dream more often of cats in peril; when we had a fish tank, I would dream about fish in peril. I dream very often of being late for something (usually a flight) and yet not being able to get my act in gear. I’ve heard of the teeth-falling-out dream, but I’ve never had that one.

I am wondering what are your top few dreams—the themes you see pretty often.

Yesterday was my last day at my library job, and it let me check off The Last Two Difficult Things of this process: (1) the exit interview, and (2) the departure.

I was stressed about the exit interview with the director. It felt important to tell her EVERYTHING I WANTED HER TO KNOW, and to lay it out so that she would HAVE to understand it. I kept trying to plan what I was going to say and how I was going to say it. Gradually I realized that I had said most of the things already, and that the exit interview was just a chance to reiterate and emphasize. And that it’s up to her to listen and to understand and to take appropriate action. I relaxed quite a bit after that.

And the interview went fine. It involved a series of pre-set questions, and ended with asking if there was anything else I wanted her to know. The pre-set questions reminded me of the form we have for people who want to object to a book in our collection: it asks them what they LIKED about the book before asking why they want it removed. I see what such structures are trying to accomplish—but, because I DO see it, I feel it comes across as manipulative and condescending. One of the most sudden fights I ever had with Paul was when I’d been venting about a difficult and upsetting situation, and he said pointedly, patiently, “Can you think of anything POSITIVE to say about it?” Emotionally coach your OWN ass, mister.

The nice thing (the POSITIVE thing!) about the format in this particular case was that it gave me a chance to talk about the library and my job and my coworkers with shining eyes—which I hope let the director see clearly what a difference there was when I started to talk about my supervisor and how she had treated me. I said what I’d hoped to be bold enough to say, which is that my supervisor is not a good manager, and that I didn’t think she had either the temperament or the instincts to BECOME a good manager. (I practiced those words: neither the TEMPERAMENT nor the INSTINCTS.) And I was able to end on a warm (POSITIVE!) note, by re-expressing my appreciation for the library and for (all but one of) my coworkers. (I did say “all but one of.”) And my director said nice things about me, and we both said we were sorry things had ended this way. And then it was done: one of the two difficult steps dealt with.

I do have one regret, something I should have said when she asked if there was anything else I wanted to tell her. I should have told her that when I followed her advice and asked my supervisor for more clarification about a rule and why it was important that it be done that way, my supervisor said that I wouldn’t understand, and that only people who worked 40-60 hours a week would understand the big picture. This was regarding a micromanagement of my personal work routine, one that made my work less efficient and was causing problems with the patrons (it was the rule about stopping the pick list at 9:30 a.m. no matter what). That would have been the perfect moment to tell that story to the director, since it would have shown her the gap between the way she would like things to be done (the way she thinks things ARE being done) and the way the supervisor is actually doing them. I missed that opportunity, though, and I am going to have to stop playing the alternate reality (where I DO say it) in my mind. If I’d known she was going to ask that last question, I would have been ready; I did not know, so I was not ready, and that is going to have to be okay. And: this director sided with my supervisor against me on the pick list issue, without talking to me about it, so the supervisor is now the director’s well-earned problem. The director could have had better insight into the situation if she’d wanted it, and she didn’t choose that option even when she had it for free. That’s my attempt at a Coping Thought.

I’d hoped for a very low-key departure; goodbyes can be agonizing. Also, I was worried my supervisor might do something I didn’t know how to respond to (offer a hug; say she would miss me; say something kind of mean; etc.). It was one of the reasons I was tempted not to tell anyone I was leaving: my ideal would be to leave EXACTLY AS USUAL, but then NEVER RETURN.

But also: it was already not low-key at all. Two coworkers had brought me flowering plants. Two had brought doughnuts, one had brought muffins, several had brought candy. One brought me a stuffed animal. They made me my own custom box containing a journal and socks and candy plus a tiny note in a tiny envelope from each coworker, plus there was a card everyone had signed. They made me a bag full of road-trip snacks. It took me three trips to get everything to the car. It was devastatingly touching.

I did still try to make the departure brisk. Two coworkers were leaving at the same time as me (just at the end of their shift, not forever), so I arranged ahead of time for us to go out together, so we could do one big “BYYYYYYYEEEEeeeeeee!” as we swept out, and that worked well. Then one of those two coworkers left to go to her second job, and the other coworker and I went out to lunch to rehash the whole thing: how bad our supervisor was; why I had to leave; why it took me so long; who do we think she’ll pick on next; what do we think the director might do; etc. It was a very nice lunch.

I don’t think it has fully sunk in yet that I am not going back to work on Monday. I’m interested to see how Monday will feel.

I am in Week Two of my two weeks’ notice. The director said last Monday that she would notify my supervisor and the other department heads of my departure, so I’d assumed the news would spread rapidly and I would not need to tell anyone myself. (I tend to choke up, and wanted to avoid the drama.)

But by the end of the first week, no one seemed to know yet, and I was feeling increasingly awkward about it. So Friday evening I texted a handful of people from work: the ones who are my outside-work friends, and might already feel hurt about the gap between giving notice and telling them about it. One of them asked if the news was private, and I said no she could tell people, and she apparently told EVERYONE WE WORK WITH, which is an outcome I need to remember for the future when I want some news spread for me.

So this past Monday, my last Monday, I did not need to worry anymore about spreading the news. There has been some very gratifying feedback. One department head wondered if we could put a poll on the staff whiteboard about who should leave, me or my supervisor. Another wondered aloud about who my supervisor would try to push out next. Excellent, excellent. One department head asked the question I wasn’t sure how I’d handle (“Why are you leaving?”) and I wasn’t really ready for it despite having plenty of time to think about it and prepare; but I did manage to say it was because I couldn’t work for [supervisor’s name] any more. I referred to the supervisor’s pattern of going after one person after another, as if it were something we both knew about; and said it had been my turn, and that I wasn’t going to stay around for it. This department head is very, very level and calm and professional and poker-faced, so it was hard to read any reaction; she listened and inclined her head and didn’t reply, which is on-brand for her. If she were thinking “WHAT?? You UNGRATEFUL PEASANT, HOW DARE YOU PUT HER ILLUSTRIOUS NAME IN YOUR FILTHY MOUTH???” or if she were thinking “Yes, YES, another milestone in our attempt to OVERTHROW THE EVIL LEADER!!!!,” there’d be no indication either way.

I am still feeling good about my decision to leave, and I am counting the days; also I am still feeling sad and mad about it, which seems about right. I’ve made plans to have lunch with a coworker/friend right after my last day; those plans involve potatoes and gravy and cheese.

LET’S TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE. I had something else, I am sure of it. But what.

OH! Yes. Listen, do any of you have experience with ONGOING RECURRING INCESSANT KIDNEY STONES? Paul has them, as did his mother. His kidney stones only just kicked into gear over the last five-ish years, and he has had a couple of ER trips, and one surgery/stent. In my opinion, the medical system then just said “Okay, good luck, byyyyyeeeeee!!”—no instructions about future follow-ups; no information about how to reduce future occurrences, other than to drink plenty of water, which he already does to a near-alarming extent. He realizes from his own research that kidney stones are difficult to figure out and hard to prevent for many many reasons, but it still seems like maybe he should have a follow-up to at least DISCUSS with a PROFESSIONAL what he MIGHT TRY to prevent them from HAPPENING CONSTANTLY, AS THEY ARE NOW. I have been pushing him to make an appointment (the DOCTOR is not going to call HIM), and he hasn’t been doing it.

Now he is going on a business trip to the U.K. (we are in the U.S.A.), and I am worried that he will have a kidney stone crisis while there. I want him TO HAVE ALREADY SEEN the specialist, and TO HAVE ALREADY OBTAINED medications he could take with him, just in case, to get him through an attack if it happens, at least until he can get back home. He has not done this.

What I would like to know is: Was this a foolish hope ANYWAY? That is: is there nothing the specialist could/would have given him, even if he HAD made the appointment? Or is this something I should keep pushing him to do for FUTURE business trips if not this one?

The day before I gave my two weeks’ notice, I was still not sure I was going to give my two weeks’ notice. I’d started a resignation letter on Friday, and worked on it over the weekend, and left myself a “PRINT LETTER” reminder for Monday morning so I’d have a chance to look it over one more time before going to work.

Monday morning, I put the letter in an envelope and put it in my work bag. I told myself I could bring it with me but that didn’t mean I HAD TO put it on the director’s desk. I could abort the mission at any time, and recycle the letter and change the date and try again later, or never do it at all.

But when I arrived at work, I knew I was going to put it on the director’s desk: it was the way I felt in the parking lot about facing another Monday with this supervisor; the way I wished I’d put it on the director’s desk LAST week, so I’d only have one week left. My adrenaline was high and my heart was pounding—but it reminded me of something I read in a book about hoarders: that a hoarder’s highest level of stress is right before putting an item in the donate/trash pile. At that moment, still holding onto the item, they would describe their stress levels as nearly intolerable. But if asked again even just a few minutes after letting go of the item, they would describe their stress levels as nearly non-existent: it’s the moment of decision and letting-go that’s stressful.

I put the letter on the director’s desk. The VERY MINUTE after I did it, I felt peaceful and good. For AGES I’ve been stressed at work, holding the job over the trash can, not sure whether to let go; I let go of it, and my stress levels plummeted. I felt like I was breathing again. I could feel the air going into my lungs, and my lungs expanding into a roomier space than before. I felt floaty, buzzy, happy.

I knew there would be several more stressful incidents before this was fully over, but it felt like I was ticking them off one by one, and that there weren’t many more to get through. The next one happened that same morning: the director asked if I had a minute. We had a good talk: exchanging mutual goodwill, both of us saying we were sorry that it had come to this. She asked if I wanted an exit interview and I said hell yes, so that will be on my last day. I plan to use that discussion to make sure she understands exactly why I am quitting: HR said the behaviors I described would REQUIRE a manager to take action, and I want to make sure she heard those behaviors, instead of hearing only my emotions. She ended the meeting by saying she would notify my supervisor, HR, and the board of trustees of my departure. I left her office feeling like I had a wonderful secret. No one knew I was leaving except the director and me.

That afternoon right after work I texted my former supervisor, the one my current supervisor got rid of with a campaign much more severe than the one she ran against me. (He was at an intermediary level of management, between her and me, and his position has not been replaced.) He suggested an impulsive late lunch at the mall’s food court, and we vented about the supervisor and imagined karmic outcomes for her, and speculated about which employee she’d target next. We were giddy and vengeful. It was the perfect way to celebrate a two weeks’ notice.

I have continued to feel almost HIGH. After that most recent meeting with my supervisor, I hadn’t been able to drink coffee because I was baseline too wound up / adrenalized / heart-poundy. I’ve been On Something (prescription tranquilizers; sedating antihistimines; stress tea with kava; L-theanine; etc.) every single day at work since then, and still haven’t felt good/calm. The day after I gave my notice, I returned to normal: drinking coffee, not having to take anything to get through the shift. I go into each day feeling good, cheerful, flirty again with my coworkers. I am feeling sentimental about what I will be leaving behind, but of COURSE I am: it was a good job! It was! I’m not leaving because the JOB was bad! I LOVED the job! And yet overall, I am feeling happy when thinking things such as “This is my second-to-last Tuesday.” I am not feeling any regret. I am not feeling as if maybe I should have stayed. I am feeling as if I broke free from a tractor beam. I am feeling as if I found the key to the handcuffs, and used it while the captor was otherwise occupied, and got away free, and the triumphant music swelled, and everyone felt relieved and happy as I ran away into the cleansing rain.

I still haven’t told anyone at work that I’m leaving, and my supervisor hasn’t mentioned it to me—or, as far as I can tell, to anyone else. Her energy has changed significantly. As of last Friday I would have described her energy as plotting, manipulative, and sparklingly malevolent. Her energy as of Monday afternoon is hard to describe, but to throw out some approximations I’d say she has seemed off-kilter, unmoored, uncertain, unarmed, dazed. I think my continued failure to spread the news to other employees is throwing her off even more, and she doesn’t know how to behave. To take it further and speculate wildly about the workings of someone else’s mind, I’d speculate that she THOUGHT she was playing a game where she’d win if I quit; but when I actually quit, she briefly regained perspective and realized that for a manager, this was losing the game; she may also be worrying about what I might have told the director; and the director may have told her that I went to HR, which should worry her even more; she may be looking back over her own past behaviors in a new light. She may also have snapped into the reality of what this means for scheduling, and hiring, and training. She took an absolutely reliable and capable and fully-trained and self-managing and self-motivating employee with six years’ experience and chased her away; now she gets to deal with that fallout. I think she got caught up in the game and forgot about everything else.

I do plan to tell every single employee why I am leaving. I am working on the phrasing. I need something tidy, shruggy, accurate. Something that clicks into place when they hear it. Something MEMORABLE. Something that, ideally, comes to their minds when my supervisor targets another employee.

One of the things keeping me from quitting my library job is anxiety about what to do next. I hate applying for jobs; I hate trying to figure out what even I want to apply for; I hate being new at a job; I hate that whole time of feeling slow and not very useful, and not knowing my coworkers yet. There’s a post on Twitter/Bluesky that’s like “Being new at a job is so embarrassing for no reason,” and I went to find it so I could give credit, and it turns out it is one of those posts many, many people have made.

I am worried that I will get a new job and again face issues with a manager. Isn’t it interesting how many bad managers there are? I wonder why there are so many. And why they get paid so much to make other people unhappy.

I am worried that it’s not the managers, it’s me. When you have bad manager after bad manager, it starts to seem like maybe it’s not the managers. But also: I’ve always worked entry-level jobs with no education/experience needed, and I think those jobs tend to have bad managers. And also: not all my managers have been bad.

I’m worried I won’t get a new job. I’ll be bored, and listless, and I won’t do anything even though I know it would make me feel better to do something. The current political situation has me already hip-deep in despair; the sudden loss of a regular scheduled time for productivity and physical activity and a little social contact seems like a bad idea.

I’m worried about the money. Because I stayed home with the kids, all of our household’s finances (house, cars, bills) are set up for what we could afford on Paul’s income alone, so we will not be in financial crisis if I quit. And because I work part-time entry-level jobs with no education/experience needed, my pay is not much. But my income was nice for breathing room, and for sending impulsive donations, and for soothing my anxiety about money overall. I can get a new job that does all those same things, but there will be a gap. And I am worried I will not GET a new job, either because I won’t take action or because no one will hire me.

I am trying not to let all these anxieties stop me from leaving a bad situation. It is a bad situation, and deserves leaving, even if there is no good situation waiting. The manager is a bad manager, and deserves leaving, even if the next manager is also bad. It is valid and sensible to wonder if a situation might be “Out of the frying pan, into the fire”—but that doesn’t make “staying in the frying pan” a viable option.

I need to get past the feeling that I should stay with the job because I shouldn’t have let a bad manager ruin it for me. It HAS been ruined for me. It shouldn’t have been, but it still has been. Earlier in this post, I call my time there “a time for productivity and physical activity and a little social contact”—but these days, when I am there, it is ACTUALLY a time of stress and aversion and agitation; and when I’m home and supposed to be resting, I’m thinking over the stressful things that happened, and trying to change reality with my mind (“I should have said THIS”).

I also need to get past the idea that I can’t leave because my bad supervisor will be happy and will feel as if she’s won. She likely WILL feel those things; there is a sense in which she HAS IN FACT won. She got me to leave, and my departure WILL make her happier. But that doesn’t mean I need to stay and be unhappy. And my coworkers will not feel happy that I am leaving, and my departure will make them less happy with the supervisor, so if I WERE going to dwell on People’s Feelings About My Actions, not that I SHOULD, then maybe People’s Feelings balance out. And also, my supervisor may feel happy, but my absence will make her life more difficult, because she is not good at scheduling or at planning ahead, so she is going to have a serious and rapidly-accumulating shelving situation to deal with. She says anyone can shelve, and she’ll get to see if that theory checks out!

And I hope you already know I know/feel this, but I don’t want to downplay the immense privilege it is to be hand-wringing over all this. Many people are in work situations much worse than mine, and don’t have the ability to just leave—or can’t leave until they have something else lined up, and nothing else is lining up. I am going to try to focus on how nice it is to be able to make this decision in a relatively low-stakes way. It still feels bad, and I am still unhappy about it, but I am not truly stuck, and I have the ability to make the choice, and that is a very lucky thing, and I know it.