Waiting for a call from folks I’ve been interviewing with, to see if they’re going to offer me a job… and to see if I can accept their offer.
Resting after a very active day yesterday, and an early start today.
Relaxing as I drink my tea and eat my “second breakfast” of fruit and goat cheese and crackers.
Life is good, and all is well. I’m fine. Not perfect, but doing just fine.
A year ago, I was literally unable to relax to this degree. I was constantly keyed up, and I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to relax. Why would anyone want to forgo the pump, the thrill, the adrenaline rush? Why would anyone want to settle back into their chair and take a load off?
The load was the point of living, I thought.
But since I started exercising, and my system has started to regulate itself out, and I’ve had some significant breakthroughs in the course of my neuropsych rehab, I’m finding myself better and better able to rest. I’m even making a point of relaxing — and I’m enjoying it. Imagine that.
Time was, relaxing and resting was the farthest thing from my mind.
Now I’m taking my time getting up in the morning. I also take my time getting ready for bed. I stretch and move, morning and night, and I have lost my voracious appetite for junk food and sodas. I feel… calm. This is new for me. New and unfamiliar and a little disorienting. But over time, I’m getting used to it, and it feels pretty good.
I can walk outside on my own again, without needing a specific purpose for being out. I can interact with strangers again, without needing a structured activity to direct my attention. I can do things on my own, without needing someone with me to “translate” the experience. And I am surprisingly calm, despite the upheaval in my work life. I’ve got a healthy detachment that I always scorned in the past.
No more. Now I get it.
Speaking of getting it, I could use a walk. I’ve been working for four hours, now, and it’s time for a break.