I woke up this morning well-rested but dreading the two-step commute to my work computer. Working from home is a luxury.
I love the company but not my current job.
I love my managers and team but not talking on the phone for 8 hours a day.
I love being in control and having choices but not having panic attacks while on the phone with customers or after a call. Panic disorder is a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
Such is the life of an anxiety-ridden customer service representative.
I try to put a positive spin on things like “at least I have a job,” but that’s a stale point when this job is sucking the life out of me and making me miserable (I’m too tired to metaphor). I wonder why I won’t just quit, but I know why. It’s the reason most people stay in hard places: the money is good.
I wonder if my soul can be captured by beauty once more? And if time will change things or me?
Musings of a Wanderer 
No, it’s not. And I didn’t realize the extent of how bad it was until a few weeks ago (had a customer do a very heinous, inappropriate, sexual thing while on the phone with me). Trying to take things one day at a time
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I can relate but in my case I loved the work but hated the organization and the people in charge. It isn’t great when your job is bad for your mental health
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