Signs of progress

Thursday night. My body hasn't been wracked with sobbing today and I take this as a good sign.

My frustration at work has not diminished and today I had to endure a conversation with my manager about my criticism of a certain new policy, which is not something that happened. I wonder how much longer I can stay in a job where I have to constantly keep up a facade and hide myself. I don't want to have to "watch what I say" and be some automaton of maximum efficiency. This is not who I am and it's not who I want to be, either. How much of all of the junk floating around in my head and the fat on my body is here because of the fact that I'm so unhappy with what I do for a living?

Wait, I just started to cry. So much for progress, eh?

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