I’m feeling completely empty. Besides the fact I only have three squares left to do out of 88 in the granny square blanket I’ve been working on, I have absolutely nothing good to show for my life. When I look at this photo, it makes me feel more than wistful, it parks a huge lump in my throat that refuses to budge.
Fearless is who I used to be. Shoot, after graduating from college, I drove myself from here (Michigan) to Wisconsin and over to Georgia for job interviews. Then I went again to an interview in Burlington, VT by way of Boston (stopping at Cheers–which is so a tourist trap—and the duck pond for a ride) BY MYSELF. I was so confident and relaxed that I was offered the jobs in Vermont and Georgia and was forced to make a choice. I didn’t consider the fact that Burlington was probably used to dealing with lots of snow, and the fact my job was as an itinerant teacher factored a lot into my choice for Georgia. I can still smell the magnolia blooms years later. –sigh–
Now, today, I’m a nearly 53-yr-old woman on disability who is riddled with fears. I can’t even take my dog for a walk for God’s sake, and I have seriously psych myself out before I can go down the driveway to get the mail. Yesterday I went to the Recovery Int. meeting in the morning and actually had tears because someone told me I broke a rule and couldn’t talk about something. Sheesh. Talk about needing thicker skin! When I go somewhere I can’t answer the question “What do you do for a living?” because I don’t do anything.
I know this seems like a self-pitying rant, but I am working on all this in therapy. It may not seem like it, but I am. And I’m going to start journaling again. I just need some time, and I felt it only fair to let you know why.