Can you imagine closing your grip on the blade of a knife in your hands? the cold blade cuts into your hand and warm blood oozing out that stains the blade?Work is much like that blade. It cuts me every single day. The blood flows continuously and I don’t know when it will stop.
Where is my breaking point? When am I going to snap, stand out and shout, “stop it! that’s enough.”
For all the courage I have now, I am only muttering it under my breath and in this space. =(
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