Periodic record #2: Reintegration

It’s been a week since my last post — I suppose I should get on an update.

Honestly, although things are moving forward in Real Life, I’m feeling the stress of the situation. This particularly has to do with starting to deal with other people again — online and off. It also has to do with the employment situation. And the technology situation, and the fact that I’ve rarely been writing since the beginning of the year. As I’ve written before, sometimes I just don’t want to see what’s in my brain.

Writing less may be more influential than I suspect, where it comes to feelings of wellness (or a diminished level of them). I seem to have slipped into a place where I’m taking better physical care of myself, and at the same time, I’m feeling tension and unrest.

There are other, legitimate, reasons for me to feel unrest. They mostly have to do with the specter of re-integrating into society after three years of isolation. I suppose that includes all the negative aspects of same: dealing with other people, when people don’t know how to act in public.

That, then, comes with the risk of illness. And illness — particularly serious illness — is destabilizing, at the least.

I am not unaware that I am at this point still completely dependent; even more so as my outside contacts (work and social) have been cut down by COVID. So I’ve been trying to talk to people outside my immediate circle. If something happens and I have to step up, I’m going to need support — and I can’t depend on the people who support me now, to support me for the rest of my life.

I don’t know if that qualifies as “fearing” something negative will happen, or just being aware that something negative, could happen, and if it does, it will help to be more prepared than I am. The glaring place where this is true, has to do with driving; but no one’s pushing me to get a license or renew my permit. I’m not sure why, except for the fact that the world is basically crazy right now, and I don’t need some rando pitching a fit because I’m driving cautiously.

Dealing with other people was initially forced with home repairs…which screwed up my sleep for a week. It’s not fun to have strangers going in and out. For a week.

Not to mention a surprise family visit, during which we were invited to another family gathering.

So, earlier this week, I had to catch up on all of my laundry (four loads, not including the sheets). We had to shift furniture around, which was shifted back yesterday — and provoked an effort on my part to reorganize the art and craft space (which I hadn’t used for a week, even though I had wanted to).

Yesterday, I also went through the contents of the banker’s box I had first prepared during the fires two years ago, in case we had to evacuate. It had begun to smell like mold; I needed to take out what I wanted to keep.

I hadn’t taken the opportunity at the outset to go through all of my folders to see what I really needed, and what I didn’t. There were also things I needed to find (to apply for jobs) which were buried in there — at least, if I wanted to mention all the Community College courses I’ve taken. I can probably be discriminating when mentioning the Continuing Education, though.

While I was at it, I went through the file drawer attached to my desk. Now I have a ream of paper to shred.

There are at least two paper shredders in this house, so I’m not too worried: but still, this is a little less than two decades’ worth of papers. The major concern is that I’m going to overheat or break the (loud, old, dusty) paper shredder in the study; because I’m not using the nice one.

I was so concerned with cleaning this up, that the first instance in which I looked up to see the time — technically, this morning (writing from 11:05 PM on Friday, February 3) — it was around 12:30 AM. I didn’t end up going to bed, until 1:30 AM. Then I ended up waking again around 5 AM. It gets worse from there, really.

I still have to dust and vacuum the bedroom; clean the vanity (again) because the drilling from the other room made ceiling particles fall on the counters; and I want to dust and vacuum the study simply because I’ve resumed using it, and there must be years of dust on some of the books (and behind some of the books). I know for a fact that this is the case on the bedroom shelves — which get dustier, faster.

And seriously, I haven’t had a really great time sleeping, since Sunday night/Monday morning. I shouldn’t be on the computer at all, right now: but I took a nap this afternoon for a little under three hours, just out of exhaustion. I haven’t written much that is substantive, recently, save for a few journal entries. I began this entry hoping that typing would be more stimulating than writing to myself in a book that could be lost or destroyed.

With the whole job-search thing, as well…I’m realizing that I’m probably going to have to be open to moving, to take a professional job in my field anytime soon. But that’s the norm, apparently. If I set my sights a little lower — at a Support Staff position — I might be able to stay in the same area. The difficulty comes with the fact that I have no experience working in a job like the one I’m aiming for…

…and then there is the possibility of becoming a Professional Editor, which is seeming, just…well, like a new path; not one for which, I’m already wholly prepared. The problem seems to be that I can only concentrate on one profession at a time, and my age makes it imperative to become gainfully employed, as soon as possible.

And really? I’m looking at Cataloging, now, specifically, as something I could do; although I realize that Metadata positions are likely what’s coming next. I actually haven’t been back to Python, so far. The question is whether I’ll actually need Computer Programming skills (as versus skill in batch-editing tools), if I am specifically a Cataloging Librarian…

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