One possible scenario

Someone assigns me a service request which I don’t immediately understand. I get a little anxious, start to look for information. Then someone asks me a question which I don’t know the answer to. It’s not even 7am and I feel like an idiot already. The internal voices start a running commentary. It’s heavy on words like “idiot” and “incompetent.”

My logical brain knows very well that I am neither.

My inner voice disagrees. Strongly. My inner voice is not nice to me at all. So what did I do about it? I cried. A little. Then I sighed and said “give yourself a fucking break. You know how to troubleshoot. Start asking questions. Break the problem into components.”

And I did.

Then I reminded myself of something. If someone asks me questions, it’s because they think I know things. You don’t go to the person you think is an idiot for advice about an issue. You ask someone you think might know the answer.

My inner voice should really know better.

My blog is now officially a nag

The other day as I picked through what seemed like a thousand different issues preventing me from logging into the blog, I ran across a setting to have the blog notify me with reminders to write something.

I have a feeling I will regret turning it on, especially since I still don’t feel like I have anything to say. It’s all the same drivel about my continuing lack of self confidence, the awesomeness of my friends and family, and how hard it is to not eat all the time.

At least I’m not going to be whining about dating, amirite?

Tony continues to be awesome, by the way.

So what could possibly be so bad that I’m writing about my thoughts again? I’ve gained some weight. Not enough to change my size, but enough. Enough. My jeans are just a little tight, I’m already stressed about work, and it was just enough.

When the pandemic started, and we all got sent home to work, I was on it. I took up jogging, got up to 4-5 mile runs..walked every day. It was great. Tons of energy, nothing else to do with my time but work and then go for a walk. Nothing.

Eventually, as the weather got hot it got harder for me to run. And I started getting dizzy. So I went back to just walking. My motivation wasn’t there anymore. My brain was frazzled. It was like every iota of my mental energy went into work. Work which I feel like I’m doing poorly, though my boss disagrees. I stopped reading anything but the most intellectually void trashy novels. I stopped making things. No knitting, no art.

Tony got me out golfing every week, but I stopped going for my usual daily walks. My eating is OK, but not fantastic. Not sleeping great. Not seeing my wonderful friends and family. Maybe it just stripped me of some sort of ability to rejuvenate.

So I’m going to see if this helps. Put some words on virtual paper. Work through my thoughts, feelings. Start walking more. Do some knitting. Work my up to reading a book that doesn’t have vampires in it. Maybe it will help.

Feelings

Due to stress and the rigors of pandemic life, I am once again on this kick where I’m paying attention to my feelings. One way I’ve coped on the past has been to write about them incessantly in a very public and sometimes embarrassing way. So that was my plan. Write a little bit. Release some mental energy. But it’s been a year or two since I last visited my website.

That means I had to remember my password. You know how his ends, right? OK, well, obviously I’m a bad writer because I’ve already spoiled the ending in that I’ve clearly logged in successfully and am currently writing about it.

But how do I feel about it? Is it good to be back?

Passwords suck.

Clearly I am going to need to actually write frequently enough to remember my username and password or just find some other way of writing out my deepest thoughts. Like a notebook. Gotta love a notebook and pen. Have you seen my handwriting lately though? I’m not sure I even know how to use a pen anymore. And where would the benefit be in writing in a private journal that no one would read? There would be no potential for embarrassing moments at all. That’s not OK.

Yeah, you’re right. I still don’t really have a point. I’m thinner now, though.

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