A deep depression has fallen over me as I feel the sadness and loss of being forced to resign. Every thing I know about myself and all the introspection I have been doing still says, "It was a mistake." Just like the abuse I was dealt as a child, it doesn't matter.
I took my brother to the hospital for his shoulder surgery yesterday. I had to leave my house at 3:30 a.m. and didn't get home until about 4:30 p.m.. I was so exhausted but I was having racing thoughts. I had to make myself do mindless chores.
I unclogged the drain holes in my sunroof so it didn't leak water into the car. That's when Lizzie appeared. She goes outside for a day or two then shows up ready to be pet. She's a hunter so she seldom comes home for food. I was sitting in my car trying to figure out something else about my sunroof when she jumped in through the sunroof and laid down on the back seat.
We both exited the car. I decided to trim one of my huge bushes. I was cutting back the part that prevented my shed from opening easily. I cut it way back very nicely. And then I saw her, again.
Lizzie was laying under the bush at the other end when I felt a need to lay on the patio and pet her. I curled up and stayed there for a long time. She was very snuggly and cute. I felt safe.
Laying there brought thoughts of when I'd last felt safe. It's been a long time. Dealing with issues where I was volunteering was draining. Not feeling well was draining, too. Trying to discern friendships is draining. Even the dreams I'm having are draining.
I'm trying to force my drain pipe to go up to God instead of down into my core. It's a tricky job. I hope I can succeed.
I'm tired, now. Maybe a nap.
Or maybe another chore.
More than likely, feeling more sadness...
....and sleeping.
