Im twenty-six, and my wife insists Ive got a problem I refuse to admit.
She brings it up every time I leave a job, or whenever I get sacked.
She says its not normal for the longest Ive held a job to be just six months.
And shes not wrong.
Sometimes I last a month, sometimes fifteen days, and sometimes I dont even make it through the probation.
Ive done all sorts of workmaintenance, cleaning, sweeping roads, scrubbing public toilets, lugging boxes in warehouses.
Every time, I start out eager, but after a few days the weight settles inmy body aches, my mind aches.
Its not just exhaustion.
Its the shame.
I never finished school, didnt even get my A-levels.
Somehow, I never went back.
Whenever they hand me a hi-vis vest, a broom, or a bucket, I feel out of place.
I watch my coworkersresigned, steady, doing their jobs without complaintand I tell myself, This isnt supposed to be my life. And thats when I start showing up late, slacking, finding reasons not to be there until one day, Im called into the office and told not to come back.
My wife cant make sense of any of it.
Shes worked in a shop for four years.
The pays modest, but the job is secure.
She knows exactly how much shell earn each month.
When I come home, jobless yet again, Im met with frustration in her eyes.
She says, Its not the work, its you.
You cant see anything through. I reply that these jobs arent meant for me, Im made for something else, not born to scrub toilets all my life.
This just winds her up more.
She tells me to finish my education, get qualified.
That nobody will hire me for something else without a diploma.
I promise her Ill do it, but months slip by without me enrolling.
Theres always an excuseI dont have the money, I dont have the time, Ill think about it later.
The truth is, Im terrified of going back to school as an adult, sitting among younger students, feeling behind.
At home, this has become our daily routine.
We argue about the same things.
She says I live in dreams and fancy words, but I never act.
I say shes settled, used to surviving rather than living.
Sometimes we shout at each other.
Sometimes we dont speak for days.
I go out again to look for work, CV folded in my pocket, and I come home disappointed after hearing, Well give you a ring.
The worst part is, I really do dream.
I dream about running my own business, being my own boss, not feeling ashamed of my uniform.
I dream of waking up early for something thats mine, not to take orders.
But dreams dont pay for rent and groceries.
And she reminds me of that every single day.
Do I truly have a problem I refuse to face, or do I simply deserve the right to dream of something bigger?
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