Reflection from July 13th, 2013 @ Age 32
RE: THE **BEST** ADVICE—FOR **LIFE** ;0)
You gotta roll with the punches, or else—they’re just gonna knock you over…
Or, something to that effect.
That’s what she said to me the morning of my last day in the psychiatric ward at Riverside Hospital—her shift was ending, and she came to me specifically to say goodbye because she knew it was my last day and she was my favorite nurse, by far. She didn’t put up with people’s bullshit, but she wasn’t a bitch either—she was the perfect mix between. She made her time matter, and that’s what I want to do. I want to make my time matter by putting my energy where I want it specifically to go, and by generating as much energy as I can by fueling my body in the best way that is genuinely possible for me to maintain. I’m starting tomorrow, and I know tomorrow never comes but really, please do listen now—I am starting tomorrow.
But anyways, that’s what she told me. You gotta roll with the punches or they’ll knock you right over or something to that effect. I wish I knew specifically. Kind of like I wish I knew specifically, I mean remembered—the great compliment my divorce attorney paid me when I went to visit him at his office to bash his brains in and instead, I took some Xanax ahead of time (like…a lot, but still…it was prescribed for that very reason; i.e. anxiety) and we had the nicest of conversations. Still no word back from Adam’s attorney yet, but it was nice to see Jeff finally put his foot down to them for me. It felt good. It finally felt like I had someone fighting on my side.
I’ve been rather perplexed and slightly anxiety-ridden due to my blogging efforts as of late. I just don’t trust myself. I mean, I know I write my best when I don’t think about what I’m writing—I just let thought come down through my fingers to paper or whatever, computer, whatever. But I don’t trust myself in doing so. I feel like I cannot tell when I am doing it to the same degree as I used to and still, sometimes cannot tell the difference between an intuition of mine, versus a mere want or desire. It frustrates me. I think I’ve written about this before, but people have told me—so many different people, you look good with darker and more makeup but gosh, don’t you look so much even more gorgeous without all that dang “face paint” (as my six year old nephew would call it ;0). It’s like that. My writing is so much better when I just allow myself to be free—think free, write free, to just be free. That is when my writing is at its best.
Also, not to mention, I have a million little details to settle on and this “book” project just seems like it’s never ending…but I know that’s not true, and especially now—since I just finally got the remaining content changes and updates to the programmers for our website at work. The website is almost complete, which was very exciting to be able to say when Karen Hanks from Huntington called me back and basically said the other lady I interviewed with retired and her position is now available—apply, here is my cell, call me if you need anything. I’ve never really had that happen before. I mean, I’ve never had a lot of things happen before, but this was just one of those things that is like, not the way the world is supposed to work—nonetheless, working just so, in any case.
So, we’ll see what comes of it. Nothing is guaranteed, but I tell you what—some real vacation days, no more fucking billable hours, responsive, professional, non-emotionally-abusive hierarchy, health insurance, etc. sure would fucking be nice. I mean, nice. I’ve never really had that before. I didn’t really know, and I’m not saying that this would necessarily be the case—but in terms of my career, I’ve never had a real support network in place. I’ve had randoms here and there—randomly teaching me random lessons and ideals and whatnot, but I do wonder if that’s possible you know? To have a support network like, at work. I wonder if it is possible, I really do.
So, otherwise, I have no money, meaning I don’t think I’m going to have enough cash to pay my bills by the end of the month. Which is a little scary. I have to apply for this job, hope to hell and the high heavens above Adam is liquidating his brokerage account (or more likely, just gathering his cash) to pay me off and get this motherfucker over and done with like, next week. Jeff said I didn’t even have to go to the final hearing for whatever reason, it’s not important. I was like sweet, just bring me the check dude when it’s done and over with, and a few certified entries showing my name corrected back. Now that I think about it, I should probably start looking for that perfect thank you card. I don’t know. I’m not sure which kind it will yet be. We’ll see.
Anyways, off I go. Blow dry hair, do hair, do makeup, don’t smoke anymore cigarettes, quit the fuck eating food, work out for god’s sake, and I know I know I know I must get the meditation thing started—so maybe I will try doing that here like, today or for sure tomorrow. It’s hard feeling so overwhelmed sometimes, but I’m sure everything will be just fine. In fact I know it, because I do good and be good and am good—I represent good and embody it and embellish it and make it look worth my time. That is the message I want to convey in Cultivating Beauty. I just cannot yet figure out which way to tell the story. Ahh well, it will come in time.