Sisyphus, but the boulder can’t roll downhill
I have two jobs. In August, it’ll be four years of this work rhythm. I say it’ll be because, unless I get fired, I have no plans to quit either one — even though my body and mind keep telling me I should.
I’ve talked before about the pandemic and how it affected my work and personal life. The short version is that right before the pandemic, I started a new job, and when everything went to hell, I got laid off. After that, I spent over nine months unemployed, searching and searching without finding anything.
The opportunity for a second job came when I had been working at the agency that hired me after that long period without income for about eight months. My immediate reaction was to take it, driven by the fear of losing my current job and going through the same situation all over again.
This job was freelance. I’d be in charge of certain clients, meeting a set number of hours per week. The advantage? I could do the work whenever I had free time, even squeezing it in during slow moments at my 9-to-5 job. It was freelance, it was flexible, but the responsibility, so to speak, was basically the same as a part-time job.
At first, I didn’t mind sacrificing my free time because we were still in a pandemic. I wasn’t going out much, the job was remote, and I could work while watching a show or playing a little. Let’s just say that for the first year and a half, it was manageable, and the extra money helped keep me motivated. But then the world went back to normal, and the exhaustion started to show.
I can say with certainty that I’ve had burnout since early 2023. That means I’ve spent two years feeling frustrated, exhausted, unmotivated, anxious, and going through depressive episodes that come and go. But what truly crushes my spirit is feeling like the work never ends, like there’s always something left to do, like no matter how much I push myself, there will always be pending tasks from the other job. It’s like being Sisyphus, but instead of rolling the boulder up, letting it fall, and repeating, my job is to keep the boulder from rolling down. It’s fucking insane when you think about it. It’s me holding the damn boulder up with all my strength, all the fucking time. The worst part is, I’ve somehow gotten used to the discomfort.
With each passing month, I find it harder to imagine my routine without two jobs. It has become an addiction in my brain, one that’s been tough to shake. Plus, it’s remote work, which means I spend way too much time sitting, isolated, doing the same thing in the same room, day after day, with no time to go out and socialize. This is something I’ve been working on, and living with my special person has helped me not lose my mind completely.
I carry a lot of frustration inside me, and I lack the courage to quit either of my jobs. I’m traumatized, it’s obvious. The trauma of getting laid off at the start of the pandemic and everything that came with it left a mark on my brain that I haven’t been able to erase or overcome. It’s a maze with no way out.
I just wanted to write about this to let out some of the frustration it causes me, and because I know having two jobs isn’t common, and honestly, it never should be.
Thanks for reading.