Monday, December 13, 2010

what now?

I already broke my promise of "no more weekends". It has now moved to Christmas holiday.  Did I not tell myself that if it went longer than 3 months, this was untenable?  I'm now pushing 7 (in this job alone).  I'm stuck in a "if I just get this one thing done..." mode.  But there is always another thing. And, most unfortunately, there is always another deadline.

I'm so sad that my biggest fear came true.  I stayed out of the clinical coordinator positions because I got burned so badly about 5 years ago.  And I'm right back there again with an almost identical circumstance.  I don't know why I think there might be a different outcome. I've already been here before. 

I pick jobs the same way other women seem to always find the one abusive alcoholic in the crowd and decide he is a good mate.  It's a gift I have.  A crappy gift, but I suppose I gotta take credit where I excel.  I don't excel in a lot of areas of life, but I got this one down to an artform. 

Baker Creek Seed Catalog came in today.  I'm not sure what I was doing while I was flipping through it, probably day dreaming of a gentleman's farm in a warmer climate and what I would grow.  Awesome Husband walked in the room and laughed at me.  I had some silly ass smile on my face and a far away look. He asked me if I was going to cut out the pictures of vegetables and tack them up in my cubicle at work.   

Really I was just tapping into what I love.  Dirt under my fingernails. Worrying over sprouts.  Being connected to something other than tan walls and a tan desk in front of a computer.   Sure, I am a cog in a machine that hopefully one day will make at least a tiny difference in someone's life.  And I still cannot tolerate it one bit.  I need to be outside.  Not sitting so much.  Creating. Making.  Doing something tangible that I can actually see.

I hate to think that by Christmas holiday I will be so burned out from too many days at work that I can't get up the energy to be in my garden.   I can barely look out my back door.  The neglect of old plants, dead birds, messiness--well, it doesn't take a degree in Jungian psychology to see what reality I'm manifesting out there (and how I now hide from it).

I'm always waiting to reboot these days.  I hope I do so soon.  There is a fiddle calling my name, you know.

1 comment:

  1. Can I come over and hear you play? Just to at least force you to pick up the thing and saw out a few things... just so I can see that goofy smile?


"Every morning I awake torn between a desire to save the world and an inclination to savor it. This makes it hard to plan the day."

-E.B. White

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