Jan 24, 2012 08:35
I think about writing and then I don't know what to say. I think about what I think and then I get so sick of myself I could scream. It isn't that I have been living inside my own head lately, more that I've been living inside the heads of others. And it's difficult work.
My medications have changed. This is good and bad both. I asked for the change because my last medication had obliterated my already faint libido. This new med makes me sleep like a baby, but doesn't help as much with anxiety. My cuticles are a wreck.
I have a new job but it's not the kind of job I can really talk about much. It's weird, before, I couldn't be completely frank about my work because of it's public nature. Now I'm bound by confidentiality. I like the job, but things have spun out of control the last few weeks due to a staffing crisis. I'm learning new things, but I'm getting tired. What I can tell you is: I work with people who have problems sometimes. I try to help them solve them.
The winter sends me into hibernation. It is somewhat better now that sunset is after 4 p.m., but still all I want to do is knit. Stephanie taught me how to do it last year, and I've been knitting ever since. Every time I figure out how to do something, I move on to the next new way of knitting. Since there are a million ways to knit, I probably won't get bored.