To sleep…

perchance…

I am actually going to read for a while and I’m sure that ‘while’ will be a few hours… but I have set my alarm for 6! It’s been quite some time since I have set my alarm so late! And quite some time since I could simply read and know that my work for tomorrow is organised.

This is actually my first priority when I stop work on Thursday… I am going to learn to sleep again….

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There is a photo taken of me years ago. I am turned away from the camera, but smiling back over my shoulder. At a dance. I like the photo for a dozen reasons, but one of them is it’s an ego boost. I was blonde at the time. An age when I would reinvent myself every other week, or sometimes every other day. I knew who I was this morning…

You can see my back. I was fit. Muscle definition. This was before I really began hitting the gym. Hours each day. I’d wake at night and jump on the exercise bike for an hour or two to quell the twitch in my legs and my need for adrenaline. Gym Junkie. Literally.

Months later, my life fell apart in a pretty big way. A friend once pointed out that the muscle definition in my back had become so pronounced that you could actually see the knots. My back had become laced with lumps – gnarled with tension and memories…

Today, if my back had some of that definition, it would look the same. The steady demise of my body is taking it’s toll. My back is so stiff and sore I can barely lift my arms at all. My head turns slightly and my neck twinges. My back creaks and groans. My ankle has passed the tennis ball sized swelling, to now include the instep – my foot starting to twist under and becoming almost impossible to walk. The list goes on… And I still need to deal with the bits of me that need to be sliced away…

I am not getting old. I refuse to admit that. Although, for some reason, people have felt the need to tell me I look old. I look haggard. It was initially said with venom, but then I turned it into a joke… or so I thought… to lesson the sting… wrongly assuming friends would tell me all was fine… but instead, they stay resolute… silent… refusing to partake of the conversation… or telling me that I look old and haggard because I don’t sleep enough… Wow… Note to self: don’t go looking to your friends if you want to feel good about yourself…

But I am falling apart. I am sleeping an average of 2 – 3 hours a night… and this obviously can’t continue. I am falling apart.

So, that is goal number one with my new found freedom – because, yes, I do actually believe that cutting out one job, but keeping the other and taking on more, will somehow create more hours in my day… but my goal, is to stop myself from falling apart quite so fast… But in that lies the fear…. because once I start to focus on myself, on healing, on happiness…. I fear I will leave the past behind… and I fear I will actually walk away from it all, once and for all…. and that… terrifies the hell out of me.

rrThis is actually the reverse of my motivation, but I’m too lazy to create my own meme tonight…

No reason to go is not a good enough reason to stay.

As simple as that. Why stay in something just because you can’t define the reason to leave?

I quit my job this week. Not just my job, but my career. 18 years. Wrote the resignation. Pressed send. Done.

I have no real reason. On paper, it’s a great job with great people. In reality, my passion died a long time ago. I’ve tried to rekindle it, but it’s gone…

I’m an all or nothing kind of girl. I don’t do things by halves. They offered to let me take leave… see how I feel… take some time… reassess…. But what it the point? I’m done.

I have no clear path to follow. No guaranteed job to pay the bills. But, I do have some savings and I do have some options, and somehow… I’m certain… it will all work out…

ccEveryone loves these memes! Chase your dreams. Take the leap. Have faith. Follow your heart. Everyone loves them…

But…

When you quit your job… people aren’t so certain they actually want you to DO it…. Maybe chase those dreams a little later… Maybe take a small step rather than an entire leap….

You have children…

You have bills….

You just quit a perfectly good full time job…

In a time when the economy is uncertain…

and jobs are scarce…..

and the cost of living is insane….

what the f@#$ were you thinking?

But…

I

am

happy

So it seems that people don’t actually want you to DO anything. We’re all meant to moan and dream and wish… but not actually DO.

I have had one heartfelt excited response. One person who has said – wow! So happy and excited for you! So incredibly stunned you have actually done it… but so incredibly wow and excited! – and that was from the person I expected to react the least… I didn’t expect the stunned silence.. the quiet recriminations… the subtle questioning of my mental health… or the blatant attempts to change my mind.

Because…. I… am… happy….

I can’t see it… perhaps I should post a photo and see if anyone else can see it…

It’s a spot I’ve been rubbing for years, I think… or is it just that I rub it now because I’m aware? I don’t think so… I think I’ve been doing it for a while. One of those spots that you are drawn to, without knowing why… It’s also near where my necklace should hang – but I broke it a few weeks ago. I twist my fingers through the chain, and it’s the same spot almost… perhaps it’s the absence of the chain that has led to me rubbing it? But I think it’s been years… or am I just remembering a false memory?

Yesterday, I had a moment. Almost an a-ha moment. People talking about scalding yourself with hot foods, and I remembered… a baby in a pouch at my chest. A hot pie. Dripping meat. Hit my chin. Arching back to protect the baby. Hitting my chest. The blister took weeks to fade. Perhaps a scar? But I recall the meat falling just to the other side – an inch to the left rather than the right…

And now, conscious of it… or not of it… I can feel a tugging there… a pull…. a throb of pain…

But I can’t see it….

If

Nothing quite like your doctor muttering the words ‘carcinoma’ and ‘tumour’ to wake you from that half lived slumber most of us call life… The C words secretly terrifies me. Some days, it feels as if people are dropping like flies… I know this is a little exaggerated… but it’s how it feels at times… as if the world is somehow giving me omen after omen…. and i am not listening….

Yes, a tad melodramatic, a tad catastrophic.

My two questions.

1. If you knew the number of your days, would you live them any differently? I’ve never asked that of anyone who has answered ‘no’… until my friend was given a month to live. The C word again. She maintained, for the two months she was granted, an absolute belief that she had done everything she had wanted to in life and there was nothing more she wanted, other than to have more time to watch her young grandchildren grow. I’ve never met anyone else who could claim that.

2. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. What should you be doing? What could you be doing? And… if there were no obstacles, what would you be doing? The last one is the real curve ball. Most of us suddenly realise we are so far from the path…

But I’ve been working towards that path in recent months… I think…

So why am I holding back? Fear of failure? Or fear of success? I’m pretty sure it’s the latter…. Yet, with all the signs saying to me that life is so very, very fragile, why am I still dithering?