Rooted, I used to think.

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Purgatory - Sunday, Feb. 10, 2019
Day Fifteen - Saturday, Feb. 09, 2019
Day Fourteen - Saturday, Feb. 09, 2019
Day Thirteen - Thursday, Feb. 07, 2019
Atonement - Thursday, Feb. 07, 2019

Sunday, Jun. 24, 2012 @ 1:38 pm
Last Shift, Day 4

Again, at the mine. I hauled my duffel bag into my assigned room and sighed: a mirror image of my previous bunks, this time facing East.

In the morning, I trudge the boardwalks to the kitchen. Ladle my oatmeal from the stainless steel vat. Fill a bowl with thawed berries. Fill my travel mug with tea. Take two brown paper bags and fill them with lunch.

I'm tired of being here. I'm tired of the dust and drama and hypersexual men. I get frustrated with how things are, and then I realize that I have the power to change things. But do I really? This place is a machine that runs itself.

I have to remind myself that a lot is happening right now, and that I have every reason to be experiencing varying emotions. I've been living out of a suitcase since the beginning of May. My belongings are spread between two cities that are located nine hours apart. My best friend started a new job, and I wasn't there to celebrate with him. I'm struggling with trying to sell a house and having to accept financial loss on the property. My cat is staying with friends, and he's being a terror, and I am experiencing a huge amount of guilt around the whole thing. I start a new job in three weeks, and I'm worried that my skills have been exagerated. I'm moving from a city of 80,000 to a city of 2.3 million. I'm moving from a 2400 square foot house on a quarter acre in a quiet subdivision to a 1000 square foot condo in the middle of a dense urban area. My commute is changing from a seven minute solo drive along the river to a 30 minute ride on high capacity public transit. I've been thrown unfairly into a job that has been a mess for months. I don't know when I'm going to be able to move my bed to the city. I don't know when my house is going to sell. I don't know how much of a hit that I'm going to have to take on it. I have been without a car for two months and have had to get myself around a car-oriented town on a bicycle.

What I'm saying is that I need to give myself a break. Breaking from routines is physically stressful, and I've been pried away from nearly every familiar routine. Soon it will be summer, and I'll be down with Daniel, and the job will work out, and the house will sell, and we'll have Alf back, and I'll sleep in my own bed, and everything will fall into place.

Eventually, everything will fall into place.

Roots | Shoots