I had a wonderful blog post drafted in my dreams, or maybe it was between dreams, last night. Ticking all the boxes, remembering to cover the angles of the topic I was talking about, and not just rushing to a finish and realising after I hit publish that I meant to write all this other stuff too, or I never made my point and which makes me realise my arguments about my point are completely off the wall and probably invalid.
Like reading about the school shortage stats and getting to reprocess my feelings about not working, about not “being a speech pathologist” any more, about whether or not I want to try to get back into it, re-entry can be done up to 15 years, I’m around 8 years since I worked. Lamenting not keeping registration/membership. Wishing thinking, overthinking. Not really wanting to be working like that any more, but then when jobs come around like “Do telehealth with remote autistic teenagers” I go oooh I wish I could give that a try.
I pushed myself too hard this week or so. School holidays, helping out with my niece and nephews, engaging in politics, with planning and organising, actually seeing people in person, attending meetings online. Made it to group this morning and felt like bolting so I decided to ask for help, ask mum to take on the babysitting I’d offered to do so I could come home and zone out.
Self care or something.