One year of crying and the words creep up inside

There is so much to say, so many things to update. I can’t think of where to begin past “I am overwhelmed.”

I like my job well enough, I suppose.  If you had told my younger self that I was actually really good with financial things I probably would have laughed at you and then asked where you got your drugs because they were bad and you should find a new dealer.  Turns out that just because I am good at something doesn’t necessarily mean that I love it. It just means that I am strong enough to capitalize on it 40 hours a week with a bonus of working with some really amazing people (alongside the occasional turd, can’t lie).

I need to socialize more. The old adage “If you don’t use it, you’ll lose it” pertains not only to one’s body, but also to one’s ability to relate to people. I’m so out of practice with talking to live people that I am probably 80% feral with only a slight chance of a full recovery.

To be fair, I went through a breakup just before Covid hit and really needed time to myself.  When other people were whining about being in lockdown though 2020, I was in my heyday with online therapy and giving myself a palate cleanse when it came to dating. I spent too much time scouring Netflix and letting my backside make a dent on the sofa along with snuggling my dog while having one-sided conversations with him. I cleared my head, got some things right on the mental health side, and now just over two years later I think – MAYBE – I might be ready to put myself out there again.

But probably not. Which is ok too. Another adage, “the more men I meet, the more I like my dog” rings very, very true most days.

Good god, it’s almost 1:00 AM. I’m signing off and putting my head down on the pillow shortly. Tomorrow (later today?) may be Saturday but I still have things to do, people to avoid seeing and then later in the day a glorious nap in the recliner while the rain falls outside.