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Antiwork

I feel like I ought to be grateful for my job given the circumstances. And yet I hate it. Or perhaps more accurately; I hate having to work in the first place.

I've been unemployed since I graduated several years ago, and now I work in a primary school. I don't particularly want to give away more than that, as I certainly don't want this being traced back to me if at all avoidable. The hours are decent, only 6 a day, the pay is above average for my role, the boss is a wonderful human being who genuinely cares for and goes above and beyond for the staff. And yet, despite all this, I feel a deep sense of dread whenever I wake up in the morning, and whenever I get home from work. I have a vague idea for why I hate the principle of work, and it's down to a lack of agency. I don't like being under the thumb of other people. Having when I eat, wake up, sleep, what I wear, and what I say be dictated…


I've been unemployed since I graduated several years ago, and now I work in a primary school. I don't particularly want to give away more than that, as I certainly don't want this being traced back to me if at all avoidable.

The hours are decent, only 6 a day, the pay is above average for my role, the boss is a wonderful human being who genuinely cares for and goes above and beyond for the staff. And yet, despite all this, I feel a deep sense of dread whenever I wake up in the morning, and whenever I get home from work.

I have a vague idea for why I hate the principle of work, and it's down to a lack of agency. I don't like being under the thumb of other people. Having when I eat, wake up, sleep, what I wear, and what I say be dictated by other people. This isn't because of some self-important rebellious streak, mind you. I've spent the majority of my life having it dictated to me, and I still do. Agency is something I seldom experience.

And yet, I'm not sure what other avenues exist. What with the cost of living soaring due to bills, and various other family-oriented factors that have reduced our finances, I need to be earning money somehow. But at the same time, it doesn't feel worth the toll it's taking on me. I've lost a lot of weight because I can't stomach food, I hardly spend time with the people I love because I feel utterly miserable.

I did try opening myself up for commission-based work as an artist, though, in the span of eight months, I earned less than what I earned in one month via this job. It's something I would have liked to expand upon but when I return home from work, I don't have the mental or creative energy to make illustrations. Or even draw for fun anymore for that matter.

Quitting isn't an option, and sadly I know full well that all the other jobs I can apply to in my local area would be substantially worse than what I have now. (I live in a seaside town with a heavy focus on tourism and hospitality.)

So, this leaves me with the age-old question; What do I do? How do I break the cycle? I've tried to reframe my view on work, or to focus on the fact my job is important and serves a valuable purpose. Yet I can't shake the resentment of feeling like my time isn't my own anymore, or that my ability to choose has once again been stifled. As I realize I had not yet pointed out; I didn't choose the job. It was forced onto me by one of my parents.

Thank you for taking the time to read my little rant. I would be curious to hear any thoughts on my situation.

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