Easing the Stays

Somehow, somehow, I sent myself workward and arrived there, and sent myself home and got there, too.  Even without all the food and water I should have had.  Even without carriage to ride there.   Even with rain gilding the roads and blurring the cars.  This does make me feel a bit of an easing.

Truth of the matter, I felt much better today because I was busy and had places to go and there wasn’t time to contemplate whether or not the stairs would hold me or whether or not the ceiling of this massive building was going to cave in or whether I would have a seizure whilst walking or sitting or taking a turn down a new hallway.  I just had to go.  I just had to return.  The airspace for worry was diminished.  Nothing felt so big as it feels on a Monday.

Meanwhile, I went and learned the things I needed to know about my benefits.  Mostly, I knew them and have already elected them, but they also have this wellness program where sometime in advance of next year I go and meet with this one guy down by the gym (just the one guy in this massive company and he meets with everyone and Sorting Hats them or Ollivanders them or whatever) and we figure out how I am going to improve myself to save $300 on my insurance.  I do this by having some sort of biometric baseline figured out and then, I have to improve in that way we agree upon – which apparently may or may not be wholly based on pounds exported but in financial or emotional ways – in order to qualify.  I also have to go do challenges and basically, my job doesn’t want me to be a human jelly roll and they’re out to encourage me by offering me $300 – an XBox, basically, to give a shit about myself.

So that’s an interesting thought when I’m feeling really gross and awful and my teeth are day to day and today was a tongue thing and maybe some other real TMI issues and I just feel a bit like everything’s decided to mutiny just when I need them to click in and calm down and be a support to me so I can handle this.  When I’m thinking about low carb and control and summer on this gray day of rain.

What I could do before July.  When I might have a day and a weekend to tumble into being another sort of woman. And if I don’t tumble, then, if I don’t barge my way into the future, I would end up with a trap door.  Instead of this constant, curious strain to see what is beyond all those misty horizons.

It’s a big thought.  A nice idea.  Nobody’s thrilled I’m having it again, nobody minds, either.

It’s always up to me.  Where I am, if I like it, if I don’t.  That’s up to the choices I’ve made.  It always bears reiteration.  I have the power to heal and realign and change what has felt proscribed and inescapable.  To find joy even if the map and methods thus far have not worked.  I can do more than nothing.

 

 

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