Stuck

I am not sure how to describe the annoyance that comes with people’s suggestions that I get more busy, get a job, volunteer, that if I had more on my plate my grief would not be so bad…would be easier to move through, would not consume my mind. What people do not know is that I am consumed by the trauma that I am currently processing at all times. When I was in OTA school I dated and when things went wrong I made a column in my notes section as my mom instructed me, to write my thoughts as they came. Well let me tell you, it was very helpful but I made more notes on the thoughts flying through my brain than the lecture I was “supposed to be” paying attention to so I could pass my next test. I do not think I work like any other human in this world and my mom always told me I was unique. She would laugh when she said God broke the mold when he made me. I obesses on thoughts, I need long walks where I yell at God to get me able to fold the fucking laundry without sobbing in the cresses of my husbands shirts. When I go out to lunch, have a full plate of a schedule, I text my best friends, I find times to go to the bathroom when I don’t have to go…well LBH I always have to go but that is another story. Having a job right now would be the death of my career. I would not concentrate on anything, I would sob in my car, I would sob to my patients or to the poor co worker assigned to teach me the ropes. This is not me being negative this is me being relaistic. I am a fucking mess right now and no job, no daily schedule, no sleeping till noon or waking up every day at 5am will make my mind more controled. I am done with asking people what to do with my pain, my anger my hurt. I only will speak to peaople who are professional, not those desparate to see me smile on a regular basis. People who feel better when I am happy becuase then they know I am not thinking of blowoing my brains out. (I am not thinking that I am just saying that to make a point.) I am so exctied to make my own schedule. To learn the ways of making money through social media so I can work from anywher ein the world because I am going to all the ends of the earth to live out moms legacy. But Just as mom had dreams never finished, I need to figure out my dreams yet to be finished and honestly I am tired of giving people the answers they want to hear. “Oh I am going back to work and it is my dream to be… X Y Z” FUCK THAT . I hated working. I hated the 9-5, watching the people get away with murder clocking in and out with time fraud and when I would try getting caught and discplined. I am my own boss. I will be working for the rest of my life because that is who I am, but not for anyone else. So Fuck people’s worries and shit. My mom lives in me and I am stuck right now for a reason. She has a bigger plan for me than all these ants scurrying aroung killing themselves just to do what everyone else thinks is a good idea. I never fit into society why would I try now. I belong in a urban area with an etsy account and taking day trips to write and make beauditul photography images I edit in light room as I listen to Mel Robbins or my favorite Frank Sanatra spotify playlist.