On: Day Two Hundred Eighty-Eight

colorful fruit lemon lime and orange

  • Copy my passport
  • Call the bank
  • Eyebrow wax
  • Pack my luggage
  • Empty bag
  • Finish Meetup info

Maybe as I type away I will gather up some desire to do the things I’m listing, the things I claim to want to do.  I do want to do – I gotta check my self-talk lately – I just am overwhelmed by the amorphous shape this need to accomplish is taking.  The rest of October is a handful of blubber.

No boss today meant I could both work away and feel slightly more at ease, which I don’t know if it’s good right now to take any kind of ease because everyone is telling me that it’s important for me just to get done what I can get done and then bug the fuck out because it’s not my problem anymore.  But that doesn’t seem fair to the poor boy or girl who is left in the dust with zero instructions on how to generate mass emails and fixing the website and producing the reports and logging into websites they don’t know exist to order things they don’t know we need.

I guess writing it down makes me feel a bit silly.  Of course, you type it out and you think a sensible modern person could figure this out, I could leave them resources of people to talk to and they could, along with current boss, sort out what has to be done, when.  I just imagine them cursing my name.  And I guess my lesson here, the one I’m sitting in bed with a project that used to take me three weeks and I am going to somehow turn in tomorrow having spent less than half a day on, is that I’m done.  And they will have to figure things out without me.  They have to solve the questions I solved without telling them.

Because if someone beautiful and lovely decided to meet me and we mutually decided to fall in love and run away to an even more foreign clime than I’ve yet discovered, there can’t be anything standing in the way of that.  I would blow it all to hell for that sort of connection and care.  And apparently, for even less, because I swore I couldn’t leave unless things were perfect.  I told my therapist I would never, ever do that.  And yet, you do.  I did.  Because I wasn’t going to let the opportunity go by and leave me here to drown.  Empirically, I am not better than that, and at the same time, I feel so elevated and nourished by taking care of myself even if I make life hard for others that there is something moral in it.  This is the imperfect tunnel I am clawing and crawling through that will take me up to the light and I’m not going to stay in the dark just because I have to kick up some dirt to get there.

Sorry, rambling.  Not anywhere closer to being packed or getting myself calmed down before bed.

It will be okay.

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