Same Time, Next Week

So, so, so. I haven’t blogged in an age. I couldn’t say I’ve been particularly busy but time has been flying by.

Last time I was here, I was blogging about ‘unsettled stasis’, shaking things up in my day job just to get away from a role I had come to despise, and the possibility of a therapy referral.

First off, I did indeed end up in a new, challenging and responsible role in work. Me? Getting up at 4am to start work at 6am? This is the person who previous avoided 8am starts because it was too early for a night person like myself! Well, I’ve surprised myself on those grounds. And responsibility? Eek, something else I stringently ran away from in the workplace. Once again, I surprised myself.

So I went in this new role, trained for a few weeks and then turned the whole thing upside wherever I glimpsed opportunities to streamline and simplify. Wish I had the will to do that in our flat! Maybe I’m a bit OCD, or perhaps I have a thing for making things as easy for myself as possible. It was quite therapeutic, and for the first time in a long time, despite the stress that comes with the new role, for the first time in a very long time, I found myself enjoying the day job.

And I have still been moving forward with the ‘2014’ project. Just today ‘November’ was signed off… This is where it becomes truly terrifying because next up is… the ending! And the reason I don’t write much anyone? I can start things off, I can visualise seemingly endless middles. Middles that make “The Lord of the Rings” seem like a novella (so I can streamline in the day job, but with words? That’s where Matt Potter steps in to push me in the direction of discipline!) But endings? ARGH! But, it has to get there… There’s no choice!

Now we get to the title of this blog piece. “Same time, next week.” The first time my therapist said that I locked it in my head as a possible title for something.

Yep, I’m in therapy and I have been for a wee while. That’s all I need say about that. Apart from the fact that it’s fucking terrifying to walk into a room with someone that sits down and then silently stares at you. Really, really fucking terrifying. Also, my cake intake has upped dramatically since I’ve started therapy!

Post-therapy cake often looks something like this…

There you go. I’m still alive, I’m sort of enjoying the day-job but perpetually sleepy now that I run on an average of four hours sleep a night, and I haven’t previously mentioned my ‘psychotherapy’ because it includes the word ‘psycho’.

I’m not even that sure why I felt the need to write this, but I have and here it is.

Human beings, just when you think you’ve figured out how weird they are, you realise you hadn’t even scratched the surface!

DISCLAIMER: Any possible spelling, grammatical or completely nonsensical errors are courtesy of my eternally yawning self.

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