Fog. mist rain and fog.
It’s a long bus ride to work after 2 weeks off.
I spend it hearing my head moan and groan and bitch
“I don’t want to go dammit”
and I silently agree with it, with it’s assessment that something has changed, shifted
and I’m going for a paycheck, small as it is and a shift I can fit into my life and
the comfort of 8 odd years, the panic of starting over, the sheer
pain in the ass of having to start over. I like change.
I’m just lazy.
It’s not a new feeling, it rears up now and again, but it hit me last night, cranky all day, sad, that while normally I’m happy to go back to work and away from the kids, this time I wanted to cling to the rafters to avoid leaving, I wanted to bolt like a scared deer, like Pan into the woods.
My normal worker bee, protestant ethic has been burned off. I am burned off. I have nothing left. Where once I’d work my tail off, I now only want to put in my time and leave. I’m done with it. It doesn’t pay.
I need change. Everything in me, and around me, screams for newness, for renewal. High time I listen perhaps?