I've found my will to write again, at least momentarily, and while I pray (this is how grim it's become, I'm resorting to prayer) that it will last I've decided that I will only allow myself to hope a little. Just like I'm only hoping a little bit that I can restore some sort of nice look and feel to this blog after I applied a new theme, and then found that basically nothing works and I cannot find my way back to what once was.
Bare with me, folks. I am trying my very best to integrate back into society. Baby steps.
I've not written anything since beginning of 2016 really. I've missed it. I've missed the effortless ranting and raving in posts, and I've missed expressing myself freely in writing. I had an incredibly tumultuous 2016 which contributed to my losing my will to write, and then I simply lost confidence in my own writing, something I'm still battling with to be honest.
I started a new job beginning of 2016 after having worked for the previous company for 16 years. I went from being the queen of technical documentation in one company to being the quintessential deer in headlights in another. It didn't bother me much, I had expected it and I wanted it, but it does tend to drain your energy a bit.
I would say that I was successful managing two promotions in my first five months there but I have to add that it's that kind of company. Big staff turnover and you either make it big or you get stuck. I was starting to make it big.
The job itself was good was it not for a company culture that demanded business at all times. I would carry my laptop to back to back meetings all day just so I could keep up with the hundreds of e-mails I received every day, and then go home and answer more of them on my company phone. I had been hired, I thought, for my experience with changing processes and my department needed it badly, but the resistance to change and constant busyness left me feeling like I was getting nowhere at all. That's not a good thing for a person like. We like to get things moving.
And, then it happened. My fibromyalgia decided to put an end to it all, it decided to put me in my place and on my arse, and it made me care just about me. I left my high-paying, middle management job with the excellent advancement opportunities just so I could take care of me. Or, as Bee put it, "you've been taking care of me giving it 120% and you've been pouring yourself into your career giving it 120% and now it's time you give that 120% just to taking care of yourself". It's hard to argue with an 18-year-old using logic (especially when you're unwell).
Here I am, seven months later, still off work awaiting my recovery. I was willing to set aside three to six months to do this thing, to get healthy and to be back to normal. It was a little more complex than that in the end and it's not until now that I'm finally starting to gain some traction with this healing thing. Two years of chronic pain (and what was before that when the pain wasn't strong enough to actually keep me from doing all the things but when I was using a myriad of coping mechanisms to cope) had taken its toll on my body. I'm only now starting to find out how much muscle waste there has been and what it's like not to have nerves firing all the time causing pain and cramps. The thing is, you learn to live with it and it becomes your normal.
Back in January when I had my first completely pain free day since forever, I woke up thinking that I had lost feeling in my body because the normal pain "reporting in" from my body wasn't there. I panicked and it took me about half an hour to come to terms with that it's how it feels to be pain free. I spent half the day marveling at the opportunities now presented and the other half worrying about what it would be like when the pain came back again. The pain did come back but that day gave me hope that there could be an end to it but I was still exhausted, too exhausted to really do anything.
I've spent a lot of time wondering how I ended up with this my physical pain. There are times when I wonder if all the emotional pain I used to be in that wasn't dealt with somehow ended up in my body instead. There are times when I think that's pure bullshit. But, there's simply no real explanation for what's happened to me and I now don't actually look for and explanation to how it started, I'm looking for the solution and for ways to make myself feel better.
Eventually I am going to have to make a living but for now I will make the money last longer to give myself more time to become as healthy as I possibly can. I deserve it. If there's one thing I have learned since September it is that I deserve so much more than I have given myself. Being a miser with what you give yourself, how much time you devote to self care is akin to idiocy and there's no way to make that pay off in the end.
So, here I am making something new, taking care of me and doing the things, the things that need to be done to achieve that. Nothing more. Nothing less. Except hopefully this here writing.
Take care of yourselves! For your own sake.
I'm just saying.
I've found my will to write again, at least momentarily, and while I pray (this is how grim it's become, I'm resorting to prayer...
How serious is this shit? May seem odd to you that I'm asking that but I'm serious about it. How serious is this shit? I bought a ...
When life’s kicked you in the head the first thing you need to do is resist the urge to hit back. Turn the other cheek. “Like fuck!” you say...
I post hopelessly infrequently here. I feel a little bad about it, I have to tell you, because when I check the stats, and I actually do t...