I’ve been living what honestly feels like earthly purgatory. For the last five years, I’ve worked full-timeOn a fixed Friday through Tuesday. That means every weekend, every holiday that falls in that window—no rotation, no flexibility.
Because of that, I’ve missed everything. Holidays, family milestones, Mass, time to rest, time to breathe. I haven’t had a full Christmas or Easter with my family in five years. Mass is nearly impossible unless I get off exactly on time.
This past year gave me one rare grace: Christmas Eve fell on a Tuesday and Christmas Day on a Wednesday—my regular days off. I got to spend Christmas Eve with my boyfriend’s family, and had Christmas Day off for the first time in years. It reminded me what peace could feel like.
But other than that? I’ve used all my PTO last year for my sister’s wedding. The years before that, it all went to my brother’s wedding and his kids’ baptisms and birthdays. I gave with love—but I was left with nothing for myself. No rest. No retreat. Just exhaustion.
This year, my birthday falls on a Wednesday—my scheduled day off. I didn’t think to request it off. But then they scheduled a mandatory meeting for that day, and told us missing it is a fireable offense. So that day’s gone too. And I’m tired of watching everything meaningful on my calendar get crossed out in red ink.
I’ve worked hard to set boundaries. I don’t let guilt push me into working holidays on my scheduled days off anymore. I will never work Thanksgiving there again. But even when I show up to family events, the cost of getting there is rarely acknowledged. I sacrifice sleep, church, mental space—just to be present—and I still end up invisible.
I’ve reached the point where I sometimes let things slide—not out of laziness, but because I’ve run out of fight. I’ve dealt with the same entitled people so many times that it feels pointless to correct them, especially on days when I feel lucky to get a lunch break… I don’t care anymore. That’s how tired I am.
And the part that hurts the most is this: I’m tired of telling myself, “I won’t still be here next [holiday],” when I don’t know if that’s even true anymore. I used to say it with hope. Now I say it to survive. But that lie is starting to feel heavier than the truth.
I live paycheck to paycheck in a job that feels thankless and spiritually draining. Even with support from my parents and careful spending, I’m stretched—financially, emotionally, mentally, spiritually.
So I give it to Jesus. Every lost hour, every unacknowledged sacrifice, every piece of myself I’ve spent to make things work. I place it under His Precious Blood and into His Most Sacred Heart, because I know He sees me. I know He’s not asking me to carry this alone. And I believe He has more for me than survival.
Please pray that God opens a door. Not just any door—but one that leads to a job where I can rest, worship, spend time with my family, be present for Mass, and stop feeling like a ghost in my own story.
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And I’m seeking the intercession of:
Our Lady—Undoer of Knots, of Good Success, of the Impossible, She Who Shows the Way, and of the Thunderbolt
My Guardian Angel—my first friend who knew me before I even existed, because I need help I can’t see and protection when I forget I need it
St. Joseph—because I want to work and live with quiet strength, not silent suffering
St. Cajetan—because I need a new job, and I need it to be life-giving, not soul-sucking
St. Homobonus—because I want just work and need work-life balance, not survival math
St. Zita—for strength on the days when quitting sounds easier than continuing
St. Bernadette—for healing via the intercession of Mary in the places I’ve ignored for too long
St. Catherine of Siena, St. Teresa of Ávila, and St. Margaret Clitheroe—because living in truth, with conviction, while everyone around you stays silent takes real courage
St. Jude, St. Rita, St. Philomena, and St. Expeditus—because this feels impossible and I need heaven to move—St. Expeditus, please make it happen as soon as God allows
St. Anthony the Wonder Worker—for all the time, energy, and identity I’ve lost to this job
St. Jane Frances de Chantal and St. Hedwig—because I know what it’s like to be the one who shows up, stretches, and still goes unseen
Sts. Joachim and Anne—for time with my grandparents while I still have it, and because I know they would die happy if our family could be united again
St. Michael the Archangel—for protection from every oppressive force trying to silence, diminish, or control me
St. Benedict—for peace in a place filled with spiritual noise and manipulation
St. Thomas More—for integrity when speaking truth has consequences
St. John Bosco—for leaders who lead with compassion, not control
Servant of God Madeleine Delbrêl—for hidden holiness, offered in the middle of chaos
St. Cecilia, my patron—tune the instrument of my life so that it finally sings instead of strains
St. John the Baptist—lessen my doubt, help me firmly know and believe things will change very soon
St. Dymphna—because I need mental clarity and protection from the slow erosion of burnout. I’m already unraveling and have admitted to being in a high functioning burnout
St. Kateri Tekakwitha—for grace when you’re the only one walking a quiet, faithful path
Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati—for joy and freedom in faith even when the world feels heavy
St. André Bessette—for strength in my invisible labors
St. Monica—for patient hope that my family will one day see what I see
St. Padre Pio—for grace in silent, unseen suffering
St. Philip Neri—for joy and warmth in the places where heaviness has taken over
Servant of God Walter Ciszek—because he lived in true earthly purgatory, yet never lost faith. I ask him to pray for me as I walk through my own
Please pray that I not only leave this job—but that I get out soon. I’ve stayed longer than I thought possible, and this experience—this earthly purgatory—has stretched me, broken me, refined me, and most of all, taught me to trust God more than I ever thought I could. I know now that I can’t rely on systems, policies, or people to rescue me—only Him. And I believe with everything in me that He will open a door. I just need your prayers to help me walk through it when it comes.
With trust, exhaustion, and hope,
Amanda
