What is going on? New work.

It has been so long since I have posted, and I really don't believe that I have really "blogged" as of yet.

I have been inspired to try to blog away, as many others have, writing musings and tid-bits, etc. I don't know if I can be very faithful, but I might try now.

My 42nd year was a year of endings and beginings, figuring out that there is no time like the present to do what I want to do and to be true to myself.

I always wanted to go to massage school, and I did. I loved every minute of it , and I was sorry when it ended, even though it meant that I could begin to practice bodywork in earnest, trying to help other people as a few therapists have helped me. I love this work and I can't imagine doing anything else with my life, even though I somtimes wonder if I can, in reality handle the work physically.

I am so challenged with physical pain, I sometimes don't know how to get happy about anything. I usually do - get happy about something - but, I tell you (those of you who do not know already) chronic pain will make you a different person that you ever, ever, ever thought you would be. I don't know how else to say it, but the world sometimes seems like it just wasn't meant for me.

What exactly does that mean? Like when you go to a meeting, and you realize that everyone has read a memo that you should have read, but didn't get (by no fault of your own), and you can't even fathom what the agenda is, you cannot participate in the discussion, and you are ostracised for not "making a contribution" or worse yet, not even trying! to solve the problem. You KNOW that you are able to solve the problem and do it better than anyone knows you can, but sorry, too late, the intel is not available to you.

But, I keep on, I do what I can, and more that "I should" (whatever that means), and I just know this: If I did not have work that I loved, even if I can't really make enough money, or do it as much as I would like (or as much as I am expected to) I would shrivel up and die, like an unwatered house plant in the closet. A stinky laundry closet with old wet, moldey soccer gear that someone forgot to wash over the work week. Who wants to live there? Not me......

I love my chosen work, I just need it to love me back!