My dear mother has been somewhat irritable. It shows, among others, that she gets easily offended by nothing. Today, we had the usual random editors' debate when doing some proofreading and corrections. The text said something about the Renaissance starting in the 13th century, I said It's crap because even Petrarca is not counted as early Renaissance, early Italian Humanism, yes, but that's not Renaissance, mom claimed that it must be right because the author is an expert, I replied Yeah, sure, whatever but still, it's a piece of crap, as emphatically as it gets in the 5827th debate only this year. Mother took offense and yelled at me how do I dare to use that tone! I'm being rude! and that I must be mentally ill to behave this way.
I shrugged it off. The last time, I had to be on drugs to use that tone! which was the last straw when I decided that I've been offended one times too many and decided to quit my job in the dear family business and move away.
Which was some three weeks ago. I got scared because parental units had me manipulated into not moving away or moving back to their house a few times already. I wasn't still very sure how depression-free I was. I talked to the few remaining friends and acquaintances (yes, I brought my father's hotel into black numbers and all I got was minimum wage, snarks, a burnout and my social life got almost entirely destroyed, what a bargain) about it and that I'll need all the mental support I can get. Everyone was pretty positive and when they said that I should have done it years ago, they said it nicely enough.
I started looking for a job and oddly enough, there are jobs where I could use my education and experience and I would get more than a cleaner, even! The original plan was to start in around September because I promised some business stuff to mother but then I discovered some ultra-cool openings. I already sent a pile of papers to one place and I'm working on another; it's not that secretary in a back office in some cushy government institution but nice managerial jobs at universities. And then I made another decision: bite it. If I get my nice university job, one of which would include one's own secretary and an office with a view, I'm just packing my purse and leaving. I should have done it years ago indeed.