I wake up every morning with butterflies. Anxiety. Nerves. Sometimes anxiety is good: It gets you motivated and moving. And some times... it's not. You sit. Stare. Your kids call you. You say: "Just a minute." and you sit & stare. They start counting to sixty... "59... 60! A minute's up! Come on!" (Who taught them to be so literal?)
I'm doing stuff. I mean, I'm not entirely immobile -- catatonia has not entirely set in -- but given my druthers? Sitting. Staring. Curled up in little ball under covers in my bed.
I've sent out three resumes and have had two phone calls back. One is for a position in Far Rockaway... and while I'm sure it's a great job -- the commute is about two hours. I've been playing phone tag with the woman... but honestly I'm not even sure I want to go out there just for an interview! I have a job interview on Friday. (I know, you're saying stuff is happening -- why is she so anxious?)And, this place actually offered me a position about three years ago. A position for a lot of money (relative to social workdom) but I really loved my job... so... didn't take it.
I emailed the supervisor when I saw the position was available & they called me back. So, I suppose they're not too upset I turned them down before.
So why am I so anxious? I don't know. I really don't.
I went suit shopping today. With Nathan. (Max is with J @ the US Open -- J had an extra ticket!) He sat outside the dressing room playing with my flip flops & his toy dragon head (don't ask) & complained constantly.
But you know -- I've felt like I've gained so much weight & I'm still a 6 petite skirt at Ann Taylor. I am, certainly, the heaviest I've been since pregnant. And yes, I used to be a size 2 or 4... But. It was good to put things in a bit of perspective & kind of be forced to see that I'm not as big as I think I am.
Now back to the space staring.