Well, lost my job again. It was a contractor position, with the right to hire. Frankly it was the job from hell from my point of view, so no regrets there.
It was toxic, I mean that literally. I think some of the chemicals that were slung around in 55 gallon drums were messing over me in ways I'm sure I don't understand, physically and mentally.
There is no danger, and I am working with my councilor about it, but my mind has been going back to suicide. It is like that stubborn stain next to the kitchen sink, it just doesn't go away. The fact I had been thinking about it almost 10 years before I hit the crisis point is contributing I'm sure.
Some of the minor aggravations of the job were informative. I basically bought a bunch of guy tshirts, because the oil and grease was going to destroy my clothes. I needed truly throw away clothes, but they were a lot more rugged that most of the other stuff in the closet. I missed dressing nice dang it!
My arms are a mess, but healing. Deep scratches, bruises, and large abrasions were the rule. I was let go because I pulled a muscle in my leg trying to move 500+ pound drums and had the audacity to file a report (though they will deny that). There was a time I could have done it, but that is gone forever (and good riddance).
I was exhausted all the time. I slept excessively (that might be the chemicals). I have some serious catching up on my reading to do.
Looks like I now have a firm handle on what job I don't want.