I'm looking forward to working again. My mind tells me so. But the rest of me is telling me something else.
My mind tells me I should be rejoicing. Oh yes! After a month of restless hibernation, of warming up that sala couch with my idle (and ever-widening....) fanny, here's something from heaven dropping on my doorstep. Let's keep on working towards what we want, dearie, let's learn and get better project after project, work and learn and work and learn until we're finally There. That WAS the master plan, wasn't it? And that's what my mind has always wanted.
But I'm having palpitations. Losing sleep. Going through every imaginable symptom that points to that horrible, stifling disease: F-E-A-R. I'm scared as hell, mehn. I'm scared of getting out there again. The last project was scalding enough. I'm developing phobia.
Now the house I couldn't wait to get out of has become such a...Home, all of a sudden--a nest, a womb, a safe place. Suddenly I was scared of leaving it. And having to face the world out there. My God. What have I turned into? A big friggin coward!
I know, I know. The only way to get on ahead in this life is to leave your comfort zone. That's what mother said.
Fetuses have to become babies. Babies have to become toddlers. And trainees have to become professionals.
It might take some hard painful labor to make the transition, but there's no other way around it.
I know. My mind comprehends that. So tomorrow I'm going to give life the best fight I can muster. I can only pray that I'll come home smiling. Smiling, Lord...please? Please let me come home smiling.
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