I nearly abandoned my quest to complete NaBloPoMo today. The pressure to deliver a post every day is quite hard, almost intolerable some days really. But, here I am, and seeing this as an opportunity to just download for a bit, so please excuse the ramble.
I’ve had an odd day, really. Another day of hauling myself out of bed, crying because I have to go to work, and draaaaaging myself into the office where my boss saw fit to bite my head off – again, for the sixth time in as many days.
Since admitting to myself that I don’t like my job I’ve found going into work twice as hard. I don’t know why I complain about this job. It’s a good job. Good people, interesting work, good salary etc. So, what’s wrong with it? Or what’s wrong with me that I don’t like it?
I realise now that my loathing for the job isn’t about me. Well, it is about me, but not about me in the sense of me being weak and pathetic and useless and incompetent. It’s about me in what I almost think could be a good way. I’m changing. I’m different to who I was twelve months ago. I’m looking for different things. I’m no longer willing to put up with the cr@p. And I might even be finding the courage to do things that I have wanted to do for a very, VERY long time.
I saw a job advertised this weekend that interests me. I even mustered the courage to pick up the phone and make some inquiries. Sometimes I don’t know who I am when I do that stuff. Seems so “grown up” and not like the me I’ve been for the last year or so. Hard to explain.
I am also moving house this week and starting to lose sleep over it. Tossing, turning, tossing, turning. I just keep reminding myself that this is one of the most stressful events in life… and that this too shall pass. That no decision like this is irreversible. If I do end up hating the new place (which I don’t think I will), then I can always move. Ok, expensive decision, but there’s still choice here.
I got a call from my lawyer this afternoon to say there’s a problem with settlement. Aaarrrggghhh!!! Of course, my anxiety went from 0 to 1,000 in about half a nanosecond and I spent the rest of the afternoon on the phone trying to sort out this mess and stop my lawyer from sending a very lawyerly letter to the other party. I think it’s sorted now (thank all implausible deities)… or could be sorted. Keep your fingers crossed.
Anyway, by the time I got to therapy I was a jittering mess. Thankfully my therapist was able to calm me enough to proceed with the session, so we talked about the work thing. She was impressed – impressed that I’m finally nutting through some of this, and VERY impressed that I rang the CEO to discuss the job. The little kid in me who constantly craves approval is doing a great big happy dance right now. 😀
Given I’m moving house, I haven’t wanted therapy to be too icky the last couple of weeks, so I kept things mostly light. Or light-ish. I did do one brave thing. Or two, may be. Neither of which I want to acknowledge. Just want to run and hide under the doona (that’s a quilt/duvet for those of you in the northern hemisphere). I’ve wanted to weigh myself for awhile – at least since the Food Thing started taking over again, and the Body Image and the Weight Things started haunting me – but I’ve been too gutless to do this on my own. I knew the scales would reveal bad news, and I knew that would upset me. So I did what I partly consider a brave thing, and partly consider just weird and stoopid… I took my scales into my therapist’s office. She didn’t bat an eyelid of course, but I felt like a doofus.
The main reason I took the scales in was so that she could support me when I got the bad news, and stop me tail-spinning into the dark place with which many of us are all too familiar. It worked. There was bad news, but not too much tail spinning (even when she did ask for the number on the scales). Thank you, T.
Enough rambling for today… it’s late, I’m tired, I’ll pick up more tomorrow.