Several months back, my job and swallowed me like a Moby Dick size whale against a tad pole after fasting. Gone were the days of Evites, happy hours, weekend adventures and Thursday nights dancing.
Poof!
In a blink of an eye my life, as I knew it, had disappeared.
I love my job, but I don't love that much of my job. All the time. Almost all weeknights. And lots of weekends. The weekday hours swelled up like a vicious wave pulling me in without any hope of escape, and the quiet beach of rest vanished.
But this past weekend, I felt like "me" again for the first time in months. I came home and was not so tired that collapsing on the couch was not the only option. I went out dancing. I took a Lindy Hop/Charleston class. I sat by the pool with Reba. I went downtown one night. I stopped by a friend's going away party and saw people who probably thought I had moved out of the state without warning after being so MIA. I made plans - social plans - for the next week. I napped. I read a magazine. I cleaned the kitchen and cooked. I felt like "me" again.
I like me.
It's good. Even if it's going to be a slow, uphill climb, it'll come. Now that I saw a glimpse of "me," I'm not letting her get away so easily and will put up a fight next time the big, bad Moby-sized whale tries to swallow me alive.
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1 comments:
Great to hear from you Heather. I like you too! :)
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