Getting ahead is now the phrase we live by. A stitch in time meant to save nine. Nine stitches, minutes, lives. The whole cat. My skin feels cool, clammy. I think might either be getting sick as a result of getting so overwhelmed so much of the time, or perhaps, I’m getting overwhelmed because my head is just sick.
I have to go get candy from the car. I have to go get candy from the car?
I spent some time talking with my mentor about work and software upgrades, but it quickly ran into a closed door discussion again of procedure and planning my retreat. She suggested I have a one line response to the wave of BZUH?! OMG. That my work here for the past eight years has been wonderful, but I have had an amazing opportunity I can’t give up. That it can become this repeatable line. Everyone should be able to understand getting ahead. Talking about it did make me realize that there are hundreds of people who are suddenly going to have an opinion about this, are going to need to say something to me about it. She also, more or less said, that she would make sure her area of work transitions correctly but then, she’s done. Wait, I want to say, who is going to look after my show. I realize I gave up whatever “babies” I had and now, I don’t have a say in what happens. The other side of my relief is an odd grasping feeling. Somehow I thought I could just hang on to what made me feel most in charge, proud.
Somehow, Eleanor is guiding me along through her own misgivings about the future.
After all the intensity of this, I ended up at the silent house of my parents – my mother away with my aunt and possibly my other aunt arriving from Chicago (see, I feel there is a certain destiny to being a daughter of a family made up mostly of daughters) and my father asleep. There was a single last bowl of slumgullion, and I scarfed it down and sent myself back home.
Food? Yeah, I don’t know. I know the body – my body, don’t mean to step away from it semantically – is aching for a time of vegetables, water, and less poison. I mean, it seems like a hundred thousand light years and an ocean away before I don’t need the crutch. Before I feel like everything has returned to status quo and I can start to make a move, a focus on self.
I don’t have some clever guy in the corner, some best friend, some fount of wisdom to access every time I feel overwhelmed and stupid and distraught that I am shaking my whole life up top to bottom and I’m jumping ship without shouting iceberg. Food, even as it makes things worse, seems like the go-to solution. Because drinking and drugs would be irresponsible and expensive. Hah.
More to do and say and think but I’m done for now.