Thoughts I have occasionally:
I’m such an awful person, it’s better I’d be dead or far away from doing damage.
I’m such a different person than everybody else, I’ve hard time fitting in and I always struggle.
But yet again, different is not bad, different is good for the mass. I’m on the far side of a Gaussian distribution. We were always told the far side was better than the anonimity of the majority.
If nothing else, the few specimen that are out of the majority are at least good for biological (or sociological) diversity.
So I only need to find my place and use in this world.
The next bout of insidious thoughts:
If I don’t find a use for me, my diversity is for nought.
If I do find my use, but don’t do anything to be useful (like now), then I’m wasting my life. It will be taken from me (aka I’ll get terminally ill).
No conclusion yet:
I know I shouldn’t be thinking in this way, but this line of thoughts pops up a lot. I’m acknowledging it here, but I I’ll yet to think the way out.
What a hectic week (now already weeks, since I started writing this post a week ago). A rollercoaster ride. Fast and with no reflecting time.
I had a dream. At the time I thought it was significant and it should be analysed. But this was a few days ago and memories of dreams fade… Then I had another dream the next day and it faded. I wrote them down anyway.
I decided I’ll give them a gross analysis. If they are significant, they deserve something.
But please, do not read on. It’s boring. Continue reading Dream analysis 2
The time of choosing the safe vs. the right-for-me came.
My first employment in the new not-even-started-yet business was my ole friends, the brothers Defence Mechanisms (DMs).*
I think I should look into the DMs deeper and elsewhen** longer. They are a big chunk to chew off my psyche cake. But for now, suffice it to say, being forced to choose felt like I was tied in a cage and wriggling to get free. I repressed the feelings, I intellectualise them (still), and so on. I chose something, just to get free, which is more than usual when I just postpone the decision. Or did I choose?
Just writing this, my level of anxiety rises. Repress, rinse, repeat. (Funny, I should call my DMs poison of choice the RRR procedure.) Continue reading The job offer, part 2: defence mechanisms
I got a job offer. No. I got an offer to venture into a business. I had so many emotions when it happened, joy, fear, hope, despair, itchiness for action, reality obliviousness, yearning for learning, etc. I didn’t consult Mos then. Maybe there was no time, but I regret not writing my thoughts down when emotions were still high.
With the time’s pass, all of those emotions reverted to my normal state of void. Really quickly. (I think, way back in my youth, I was brainwashed into thinking all emotions were bad, so I tried to repress them. Now it shows.) Still, I want to sort them through. Continue reading The job offer, part 1: emotions
My maternity leave has ended. Vacation started and has ended. Work has started. My blog has suffered a leave of absence.
I was so sure I’d be writing MOS regardless of what I do during the day. Wrong. There is a difference between being a stay at home mum and being a working mum. There are perks to each. In regard to being depressed or not, I choose work. I haven’t been as depressed because I had so much to do and little time to ponder. Of course, there’s still the same amount of work to be done on my issues. Different content, different flavours and triggers, but mostly same issues as before. More insight, less time to comb through a tangled mess of my thoughts.
I did three-quarters of my next-in-line homework but never posted. It says 9 August. It must wait. A lot has happened since I last posted. That must take priority. I’ll give you a blurb. Anney Bird’s real-life persona got a job offer. And a lot of compliments that she’s reluctant to take. A lot of thinking due…
I missed writing. Thus the clichés, and complicated words and sentences. Grammarly caught up with my inactivity, at last. Let’s see what it says tomorrow, in my weekly report.
P.s. I still have guilt over not posting, a need to prove myself to you. I shouldn’t. I should do it for myself, and the blog should just be a media type to do so. But… it is also a good thing. My guilt forces me to write eventually unless I want my few readers to pack and flee from boredom.
Well then, not so few words I hoped to write. I need to work on my eloquence, too. All in its own time.