I take it apart
in the garage
like a puzzle:
the petals are as greasy
as old bacon
like maidens of the world
backs to the floor
and I look up
at the old calendar
hung from a nail
my wrinkled face
is beyond me.
“I don’t know what I want, but it’s not this.”
So this figuring shit out thing might be more complicated than I anticipated.
But hell, frankly I’m doing great comparatively, and just dumped literally my whole life story on my therapist…poor woman has a novel waiting for her, lol.
The future seems somewhat exciting, now, just need to angle my finances correctly and weigh values and ugh. Damnit, addicts do recover, just in completely non-linear ways.
*Re-enters reading hole*
Going to spend my next two days off setting goals and planning. Most of it will be goals for 2018, deciding if I want to keep living here or not… really I’m trying to get a better idea of what I want to do career wise. Ironically, I wanted to be a psychologist when I was younger.
Maybe something with therapy. Don’t think I could become a substance abuse counseler without eventually murdering a patient.
I don’t know. Liked library science, liked teaching… hopefully I’ll have some clue on what’s reasonable and also interesting.
My best friend is in labor finally (yay,super excited, she’s going to rock at this!), but another woman I know miscarried this afternoon.
Unlikely combination, weird blend of emotions.