trying to let go
one of the revelations I've had of late is that I take things to heart and I have trouble letting go. Recently I've had a long and draining round of medical appointments (18 months), to finally get a resolution. The not knowing, and waiting for a diagnosis, is like torture. It has diminished my tolerance for all the little shit things that happen, which naturally at a time like this, pile up in spite of (or because of) what you already have on your plate.
Lots of little things, but they start to dominate. I got frustrated having a manager who doesn't like dealing with people issues, and felt worn down by organisers of professional development that were so inflexible about arrival times and asked me to reimburse costs when I realised it would be too stressful to attend.
I have finally found some time out from all this, a chance to take it a little easier and more carefully. It took a lot of effort to let go of how I felt about work-or more, how I felt about myself at work. Because I'm good at my job, do interesting things that I am good at. But I couldn't enjoy that because of how much I take to heart each relationship and interaction at work. The other reason I couldn''t enjoy myself is because each hard event, that makes me exhausted or ineffective or unhappy, returns me to the first time I felt like this, back when I started boarding school. It's awful to feel as though you haven't progressed emotionally from the unanchored teen years.
It's just hard at the moment, wanting so much to move on and feeling still flawed from something so long ago. A is weary of me, because there is so much I am grieving for. Professional lady pointed out that when your parents haven't been there for such a critical time in your life, it puts a high stake on your friendships with others, because you're hoping for something from them that you never got from your parents. Profound stuff.
On the positive side, arranged to see old friends this weekend who still love me, and have made a new likeminded friend, W. She invited me to help build a strawbale house today ( a project friends of hers are undertaking), I helped "stitch" the straw bales to their supporting poles. There is a couple called Sue and John who build strawbale buildings and have been employed by W's friends. Everyone else is just helping out, including one guy who is doing a workshop to learn to do it himself. He was all country guy like, could have bottled and sold him: blundstones, laconic accent, smoked rollie cigarettes, referenced a life lived in other country towns and wore long sleeves rolled up and had that accent.
Lots of little things, but they start to dominate. I got frustrated having a manager who doesn't like dealing with people issues, and felt worn down by organisers of professional development that were so inflexible about arrival times and asked me to reimburse costs when I realised it would be too stressful to attend.
I have finally found some time out from all this, a chance to take it a little easier and more carefully. It took a lot of effort to let go of how I felt about work-or more, how I felt about myself at work. Because I'm good at my job, do interesting things that I am good at. But I couldn't enjoy that because of how much I take to heart each relationship and interaction at work. The other reason I couldn''t enjoy myself is because each hard event, that makes me exhausted or ineffective or unhappy, returns me to the first time I felt like this, back when I started boarding school. It's awful to feel as though you haven't progressed emotionally from the unanchored teen years.
It's just hard at the moment, wanting so much to move on and feeling still flawed from something so long ago. A is weary of me, because there is so much I am grieving for. Professional lady pointed out that when your parents haven't been there for such a critical time in your life, it puts a high stake on your friendships with others, because you're hoping for something from them that you never got from your parents. Profound stuff.
On the positive side, arranged to see old friends this weekend who still love me, and have made a new likeminded friend, W. She invited me to help build a strawbale house today ( a project friends of hers are undertaking), I helped "stitch" the straw bales to their supporting poles. There is a couple called Sue and John who build strawbale buildings and have been employed by W's friends. Everyone else is just helping out, including one guy who is doing a workshop to learn to do it himself. He was all country guy like, could have bottled and sold him: blundstones, laconic accent, smoked rollie cigarettes, referenced a life lived in other country towns and wore long sleeves rolled up and had that accent.
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