There are a few songs I like, and I'm sure this makes no sense, but I like them because on the surface they feel melancholy or dark, but behind it all, a cautious, faint optimism is trying to get out. Something, inspiring.

Pledge of Allegiance was one of those songs for me. And, Mr. Good, you've done it again:

( Last Parade... )

I don't really know what else to say at this point. "I'm sorry." as a statement seems meaningless...

Pledge of Allegiance was the banner I flew under. Last Parade feels now like the banner I failed under.

Just needed to get this out. Pretty pictures will resume.

I think dreamy things as I'm waving goodbye,
So I'll spread out my wings and fly.

Home is a boxcar, and it's so far out of reach,
Hidden under umbrella beach.

~dances, tail wagging~

It's the middle of week three of no job.

The first week was pure hell from a mental stand point, constant back and forth thinking it was a ridiculous decision, stress, anxiety, all seemed worse. I also have an inherent need to be doing something, and when I'm not, that causes its own anxiety. It's madness. I'd have never guessed relaxing could be so stressful.

The second week was better. More trust in myself that I was doing the right thing. More trust the time I was spending relaxing and doing nothing wasn't a waste. More thinking about the steps I'll need to take next. More looking forward in smaller steps. Planning out the next few hours or days instead of trying take on the next few weeks, months, or years. I think I even started to have fun with it all!

And now we're here. Time feels like it's starting to fill the days realistically. I don't feel driven to compress as much as I possibly can into time. Things take the time they take. I walked over to the grocery store to get ingredients for soup. I could feel my stride relaxed, not strained, forced, like it did when I'd walk around at work. I still walked fast. But I didn't feel like I was walking rushed.

Back at home my music played as I cut up vegetables. The beef stock warmed slowly as leaves drifted down outside the kitchen windows. It was a tribute to calm. Hours spent in total on something I could have warmed out of a can in seconds. But what would have I done with all that saved time other than try and jam more stuff into it? Sometimes less is more.

I do feel fortunate to be able to anything like this, to essentially flip-off the world of working. This won't be permanent by any means. I won't allow it to be. But it's serving its purpose. I'm starting to feel like myself again. More even. More stable. Unstoppable.