There’s a fine line, to my mind at least, that runs between feeling overwhelmed and complaining. I spent the past 6 months, oh hell let’s be real, the past 15 years, whining about being a server and now, here I am, having worked my last shift, spouting on repeat to anyone who will listen, how it feels like my head has been removed, placed on a table and spun like a top. Always clarified with a, “but like…in a good way…?”
I’ll give myself a little grace. Change is hard, we all know that, but when I find myself standing at the sink doing dishes alone on a Saturday night worrying that now I’m missing the party…like…girl…stop. Isn’t this what you wanted???
Here’s the thing. Yes. It IS what I wanted. It’s what I WANT. But there is no way around the fact that in order to move into a new life, some old shit has to be shed and that simply, realistically, does not happen overnight.
I wanna chat about this transition I’m in, the time it’s taking and the waves of overwhelm clobbering me in the process…
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