Monday, June 7, 2004

Rosie the Riveter Does the fact that I have days where I just feel the fog lifting away mean that I'm actually depressed? I tend to think not, because I think of real depression as being much worse than what I experience, but sometimes I wonder. Today has been a foglifter. I was so anxious all weekend that I thought I might simply lift off and spontaneously disintegrate. But today, I worked. In fact, in the grand scheme of my current, stay-at-home-mom-with-childcare life, I have worked my ass off today. I have a new job, you see, thanks to my darling friend C, whose kind networking has clearly saved me from myself--or, that is, myself sitting at home with Dido off in preschool and me going slowly bonkers trying to read H's mind about how the master bedroom should be decorated and which pictures he wants hung in the downstairs hallway, and, and... But that's not my fate. I have a job, and I worked for hours straight today, and turned in the first draft of my first project deliverable. In my old life, this would have seemed trivial. But now--I had forgotten how good it feels to lose oneself in a concrete project. I have worked, hard, most of my life, except for the last (nearly) two years. My immense satisfaction after ONE DAY of working on my new project gives me the sneaking suspicion that, hardy WASP, pioneer-stock legacy that I am, I am not meant not to work. And paying our bills and picking paint colors doesn't count, "thank" you very much. Substitute for the word in quotes at will. 3:45:06 PM     comment []