Down at the Bottom

I'm in a weird spot. My skin is inside out again and I feel very vulnerable. I think I've over worked myself, loved my job a little too much.

I'm not sure what to do about this given that I feel bored and enjoy the work that I do, it beckons me to do just a little bit more; while at the same time, reaching for it feels like sandpaper against the raw side of my flesh.

I need to stop.

I would like to write, but I don't feel drawn into any stories or characters. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I can call one in.

It feels dirty to talk about this, in a grains of sand you didn't clean out of your bathing suit kind of way, but... this weird enigmatic friendship I have with the Greek. It's weird how it sits in me. It's weird how we are attached in a polar opposite kind of way. We're friends in the way we're attracted to something in one another, but at the same time, that is fading or changing.

And my place at work is changing.

And I've been overloaded.

And maybe this is what stressed out really feels like. I bet it is.

Not a fan of it.

Need to let go and let g.o.d.

Universe, please help me de-stress within the roots of my soul. Let me experience those things that bring me quiet joy and nourish my journey.

Beside Myself

I've done that thing where I travel with work people and then feel entirely out of my element afterwards. It comes down to us all being strangers after all. 

I just couldn't wait to be home and hide behind blankets in between the cushions of my couch. 

I think we had fun though. 

I don't feel like I know where I am today. Sometimes my life feels so much bigger than me. I have to work hard to stay grounded and connected. Or maybe I should just let myself feel lost. 

I wish I could hide behind a story again. 

That was fun.