Posted by: effingwishes | January 18, 2011

Words

You’ve run through the dialog so many times, it’s hard to imagine that the words don’t exist. They don’t. Conversations in your head are not conversations. The inner monolog has no strength.
Today was so close. An actual argument. Voices heightened. Not quite the ‘come to jesus’ discussion that has been looming since last year but close. Words said out loud about how our jobs cause us to interact with one another. I was told my job is ‘aging me.’ That was my cue, that was my window to say everything I have been holding onto. I’m good at my job, You are aging me. But like typical, I didn’t. Oh now I’m not a mute. I fired back with my own anger and resentment. But left it there.
Why?
Because I have no plan. I don’t have two nickels to rub together, my dear friend Sallie Mae is about to throw me in debtors prison. I can’t say I want out and have no where to go.
But how do you consciously work on an escape plan when your own depression hinders everything??

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