Hello hello hello
Okay, enough of that. I think I’ll do that thing where I blog and pretend no one is watching. Dance like no one’s watching – except, I’ll write. And this isn’t on some big stage. And most importantly, I’m not wearing any leotard, ballet shoes, or waving any jazz hands.
Man, work has been interesting. Like, 9-5 and beyond interesting. It really hasn’t stopped since I began. Today I made a list of all the things I’d like to do – for only one part of my job, not even the other part – and there were 80 things on that list! EIGHTY. And they’re not like ‘sharpen all the pencils in my pencil holder’ they are complex-to-organize pieces of business.
But hey, I’ve made a list. Next comes the question: which of these are going to help me reach my goals best, and also fastest? From there, I’ll prioritize. Along with: what am I am actually capable of doing at this moment?! And what needs to be done first, so that other things can be done afterwards?
You know what full time employment feels like? (She asks herself, because she’s meant to be writing as if no one is reading. Damn.) It feels like an adventure game. Monkey Island, with fewer monkeys, or pirates, or insult sword fights. If I want to accomplish goal A, I need to have resource B and C in my inventory – but I can only get those resources by solving puzzle Q. etc. So yes, apparently my love of adventure gaming has prepared me for being a grown up. Who would have known?
Anyhow, I love my new job. I love, love, love it. You know what I do? I do this! And I love it!
But you know what I haven’t’ loved? I haven’t loved the surging pressure headache I’ve been getting. And I haven’t loved the wheezing in my chest – caused by elements that I really don’t love. And I haven’t loved that the boxes in my apartment STILL haven’t been unpacked despite my having moved in a month ago. AND, since I’m writing to myself and am allowed to complain like no one is listening, I DON’T love the FUCKING cancer that is trying to FUCK UP my life.
But it’s true. I am both happy and frustrated at once. When I’m at work, it all goes away. When I’m at home, and not watching the Amazing Race with my husband, I focus far too carefully upon the wheeze that has developed in my chest. Along with the cancer cells, I think stress has simply gotten to me. And while I fully realize there are means to relieve these pressures, I can’t seem to . . . get there. You know?
Like, I should meditate. I should exercise. I should do yoga. I should go for a swim. I should eat well. I should take vitamins. I should call the hospital. I should call my health care insurance. I should brush my teeth more often. I should clean the kitchen counter. I should unpack those boxes. I should maybe start chemo. I should finish writing my next book. I should edit that podcast. I should write this article. I should finish a blog post. And oh yes, I should do the things that really, truly make me happy.
Or I could just go to bed.
Often, at this point, bed feels like the best option. Except I don’t even really love my bedroom, because we moved into a really weird, though also clean, apartment, and I’m not sure if I like it yet.
As I said, complain like no one is watching. Sorry.
Now, it’s not always like this. I do all those things on the list above quite happily (except for anything hospital related, because that does not make me happy). But I haven’t written a blog post in a long time. Partly because I’ve been tired. But also largely because I’ve started a new job, and I still don’t’ know how to navigate between my voice, my job, and my private but also public health and life story. When it comes to work, I never want to drag in the heath realities. So I don’t update my blog, because I don’t want folks noticing what’s going on when I’m not at my desk hustling to make an awesome book club.
What I probably really need to realize is that no one is watching. Like really, they’re not. And if they are, they’re not really because we all have lives that demand attention. But still, it’s been a weird challenge for me. I’ve never felt the need to censor myself before, except when I worked for the library. And frankly, that was hard even then. I feel it even more so now.
But I like writing these things out. If I’m ever going to move away from these stress-pressure reactions, it’s definitely at least in part going to be through writing them out.
So there it is. My complaining blog post. I’m a little happy, a little sad, and a little tired. I’m also really excited, totally in love, and scared out of my mind – but hey, why can’t we be many things at once?
And now I will revert to my default coping method.
Time for bed.