Here is the top of my desk, nice and neat. Maybe I can get some work done now.
Over the past year, Paul and I have made many changes, which we put off for far too long. We have begun purging our home of stuff that we no longer need or never needed in the first place. We’ve eliminated clutter – physical and mental – that have bogged us down for so long.
I once had a Facebook page and then I deleted it. I was happy for four years. Then, my job said it was “highly recommended” that I have an account. So I created a new one. It was terrible. After a dear friend passed away, I deleted it. I was happy for four weeks. I let people make me feel bad for not having an account so I created a my third account. It’s been one of the worse decisions of my life.
Carter Canyon WMA.
The last two weeks have been incredibly difficult to get through. As with any trauma work, there will be good and bad times, progress and setbacks. This past week was one of the more difficult ones, but three friends stepped up to help keep me on track and to be that inner voice of rationality when my own inner voice could not. To them, I am eternally grateful.
As for where I go next, it has to be spending more time offline doing what I love (reading, writing, being in nature) and less online, even though I know that means losing touch with people.
Not our plane, but another United plane being pulled somewhere. It’s probably broken, too.
Paul and I arrived at the Hong Kong airport three hours ahead of time for our flight home. We waited forty-five minutes for the United check-in desk to open to get our boarding passes. For whatever reason, the self-serve kiosks were not working. The last fifteen minutes of our wait I tried to calm myself.
One by one, United employees came out to their desks, but didn’t open. Logically, I know there is plenty of time to get the passes, pass through security and get to our gate, but my heart rate is already increasing. I bow my head and stare at my shoes, tracing the lines that make up the shoe’s design. I close my eyes and take several deep breaths to calm myself.
The deep breaths don’t really calm me. They are a distraction to keep me from screaming. I really only start to feel better when Paul says, “Okay, now I’m starting to get annoyed.”
Cinders rests in her respective spot watching over me while I sleep in comfort in my special snowflake blanket, courtesy of George Soros. /s
I am not doing well.
I wrote in a previous post detailing some things that were causing stress in my life. It was not an exhaustive list. My Friend Sandra knew I was having a bad time recently and, under the guise of coming to play with my cats, brought me a red velvet cake to cheer me up. And it worked for a while.
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