Outer Peace

It’s Monday.

Monday’s are manic. Constant phones, emails to catch up on, the general fallout from the weekend and whatever HMRC have inflicted on my clients.

A day when, I spend my time being slowly dragged down by people and pondering on the fruitless existence to which I am subject.

I hate feeling powerless. The accountant who keeps the 90 year old in self assessment long after they needed to just to bring in an extra £200 a year in fees. The individual who knows they should file but simply refuses to because..why should they? Surely HMRC know their self-employment income, or their Polish pension, or how much rent they got?. The person who treats me like dirt because I work for a charity..when the management already do a fine job of that in any event!

I ponder on the ingratitude of so many. This crisis we find ourselves in has brought out both the best and worst of people. Accountants close, HMRC reduce staff but we grit our teeth and work from home, subject to all the abuse people can muster because..”Well, you are open aren’t you?”.

And the rich..or the better off, those with £40K pensions and lump sums in the £250K range, just using our service because yes, it’s open, and with not even a thank you when we go the extra mile. Yes, we are open, yes we help those on low incomes…but if we suggest that these better off souls find themselves an accountant they just ridicule us and tell us we know nothing.

I ponder on the lack of support, that fact that those of us at the coalface are the ones who get treated like dirt. Paid a pittance whilst higher ups receive 6 times as much. Paid according to our skills apparently, which only shows me how little skill I apparently have.

I ponder on where it’s going wrong. I ponder on how a job that should be so meaningful for all the good we do, reduces me to a worthless shell because of the complete lack of value I feel I have.

I ponder changing jobs, knowing only too well the frightening statistics on the employment of Autistic people. And I have ADHD. And fibromyalgia. I ponder on how hard it will be and then comes the despair in big fucking waves that smash into me and drive me down.

I ponder life. I wonder if it’s worth it. What to live for?. No talent, zero enjoyment, a job dragging me down, hobbies and interests pale husks of what they once were. Travel now a distant memory and a future fantasy now tainted by this virus.

It’s Monday. It’s mad. It’s mad and I ponder everything.

And I resolve nothing.

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