Burnt Up

So, I am three weeks unemployed from my corporate owned sales position.

I started chronicling the journey back to myself and now, feeling somewhat grounded, I cant help but think, FUCK.

Week one was fun, I was traveling with my partner and we were soaking up the sun and day drinking. I read a few books and got a tan. A TAN. I havent had a tan in years, I haven’t had a consecutive 5 days off in years (3) and healthcare does not leave much time outside of your enclosure, despite your critically low Vit D levels.

Alien Java

The most amazing little coffee shop. They had swings, oat milk, and books…I could have lived there, it made me want to move into a little home on the coast………

Week two was hopeful. I went to my favorite coffee shop, a few blocks away and updated my resume. I read a little poetry with a stranger. I made this website. I read a little less, but started a new book on psychology. Speaking of, I obtained a scholarship and did my FAFSA, so I am also finishing my degree.

The whole plan is to finish school, work jobs that don’t break my brain, and enjoy the unknown.

However, here, in week three I am realizing I can’t enjoy anything. On Monday, my brain chimed in, “Hey you lazy piece of shit, your partner is going to leave you because youre dead weight and speaking of, you have put some on, and also you are weak and you will fuck this up just like you fucked everything up and also you are ugly and….” I have to cut this off before it goes any further and brings up my middle school haircut and affinity for velour. I simply dont have the strength.

Recently though, there has been more of a homecoming party within my self. Less judgement and more "Well, here we are again…a re do”.

I cant help but feel the parallels of leaving a thankless job and leaving a miserable marriage. Both with the sickly sweet smell of freedom and other people’s judgement…not to mention the financial loss….

But, I have always known I want more. I am not a lemming. I have to do things my way or I and my body will rebel.

I have no idea what is next. I think that’s okay. I think that’s the point.

Visiting my bestie ( I dont mean the duck, I dont know the duck )

I would love no job or toll booth operator, but they’ve done away with those.

Dream jobs: therapist writer artist who works freelance when I please and work for free to help others the rest of the time, Toll booth operator, meter maid, french pastry chef, and or none job

Anyway, having space in my brain, schedule, and in person is a privilege I am working on enjoying. If I can survive the velour in middle school, I can survive anything.

XOXO,

gossip girl

C