Here be dragons fer sure!
Work life finally arrived at a very scary destination and I’m now forced to look in the mirror at a more broken me. Everything moved so slowly but I can’t claim to have missed the signals—I chose to hush them for some pretty self-serving reasons. I actually seem to have a good line in selfish at the moment.
So here I sit, feeling pretty scared, my heart all bumpy and chatty and a big clump of hair missing. My hair, Universe? Really… you picked on my hair?? My hair is ridiculous enough by any standards. I do not need help to look more amusing.
I so really, really, want to indulge in the luxury of pointing fingers and blaming someone for this stress. I want my body’s spastic reactions to be a fault of “out there”. The only trouble with that is I can’t control out there, so ultimately I really need it to be something “in here”—because I can do something about that. And intellectually I (and the excessive number of self-help books I donate my sanity to) know this to be one of those life truths. But I’m not quite feeling grown up enough to be so zen. It’s coming, but not here yet. Actually not within sight even. But definitely coming. I think.