Jerry Maguire ruined eating chocolate from a box for me. One could make an argument for Forrest Gump. I mean, that would be the popular choice, but it was Jerry Maguire that fucked it up for me.
It’s the week between Christmas and New Year’s. It’s this weird space between the two heavy weight holidays. People are partying and work doesn’t seem quite as important.
This change is so hard for me.
I went back and reread the recent posts I’ve written about anxiety and how I’m feeling and it occurred to me that I really only skimmed the surface.
I do not feel like I made a mistake taking this new job.
Except that’s not the truth. There is a part of me that truly believes I would be better off at my old job. It was safe. And I had twice as much vacation time.
Starting my third week of the new job and I only felt like puking a little bit today. Anxiety is still kicking my ass, but I am reasonably sure that it’s losing some of it’s stamina.
We had my extended Christmas party with family on Saturday night and then on Sunday, drove to Randy’s home town in Indiana to visit his sisters, niece, nephews and their assorted spawn.
On the way home, we stopped to see Priscilla, Queen Of The Cubicle.