bits in transit
Feeling good to have completed two stories and sent them off yesterday. Reading some other people's posts in the group, feeling like I am trying to keep myself grounded for this meeting today. The rain outside is a hamper, but not too bad. I went out to another town in it and didnt' melt - did library and post office - but put off the grocery shopping until I come back home tonight. Put a couple of thoughts I had coming home into a poem and sent it off to a submission.
I've got a song stuck in my head that I don't want - it is one of the ones that rarely plays on my tablet yet my ears chose that one to replay back to me continuously today.
A little laundry to do.
Talking about installing a water heater.
And I am probably on my way to an ear ache/jaw conflagration that doesn't help.
slept long last night
dream image that sticks with me are placards at tables, finding mine, wondering how they know my name and that I'm here. They ask us to weigh in before we go up the stairs to our meeting, some interview, I hand my clipboard and such to the man before I step on the scale, scowl at how high the number goes and say I need to take off my shoes, which are some big black clunky men's type shoes I don't own. The guy looks down and seems overly surprised. I say 'they weigh like five pounds EACH'.. He says he doesn't doubt that, now. I am lacing them back on and the guy and the young female secretary by the stairs are wondering why would anyone would walk around in such heavy shoes. I say that I actually have shoes at home I wear that are even heavier, sometimes, steel-toed ones. What do you need those for?' They protect your toes. What are they protecting against? The secretary asks. I say 'I don't really need them anymore, I used to.. but for some reason I'm still wearing them.' Then I clunk up the stairs in my heavy shoes with my clipboard under my arm and push aside the curtain to the room - and wake up still wondering because I don't own steel-toed boots anymore either, but yes, I used to.
//group bit that was good
We were never meant to have chronic stress
I thought back to it, August 31st. The day before I had so much stress that I just 'robot turned off'.. I walked around the store doing exactly what I was 'programmed' to do, the tasks of the job, and turned off all the other layers in my brain so that I was dead and blank and drained. I had a lot of pain that night, and too much stress, and everything felt like it was hopeless and unanswerabe... and then that next morning, as the sun rose, I heard that immensely kind voice in my dream, from someone who was 'just behind me' in the dream and I knew I couldn't turn to see them, because they would always be behind or in me, not something I could see... - 'You were never meant to work like that.' And that is all they said. And I knew almost exactly what it meant.. not 'work' as in the place I was earning money, but my brain, my body, myself, I was never meant to work/operate/exist like that. That was misery. I would kill myself doing that. And the next day I put in my notice, because to live I have to operate some other way. I'm still working on it.