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The #work #limit



There is a fundamental contradiction when you are not working. This idea that you Can indeed work. You get this notion because you are not in fact working so you are managing the pain better and sleeping better. Things seem... better. Not awesome, but slightly better. Just enough that you yearn to be productive.

I have plenty to keep me occupied with my blog, my Facebook page, helping out with the Misfits page on migraines and my fiction writing. I am productive.

I even have gotten over this notion that my self-worth is tied to what I do. Sort of worked that out in my head. Especially since a lot of people in this area have been struggling to just work due to the decline in oil prices, and that is what the local economy is dependent on. So people are losing their jobs and taking anything as a substitute. A person said that jobs change, financial situations change, but you just get through it and when you are not doing well you make the best of it. I think then so many people are not glued to this notion that a job is their self-worth. And then my psychologist had said a great many people would desire to downgrade their work if they had the choice to. So I get it. I am more than my work.

The notion appears because I simply want to work. I want to daily activity. I want the routine, due to the fact without it my body has no comprehension of what a sleep cycle even Is. I want the interaction. I want the financial stability. I want the goals. The ambition. The Striving.

So I say to myself there is No reason why I cannot handle a desk job full time. I convince myself of this. I convinced myself of this when I returned to work full time when my insurance company cut me off last time. I knew it was a bad idea, but I was certain it would be better than the time before, and the time before, and the time before that. Because I Want it to be.

I desire something my body literally cannot supply. My mind says I must be able to do it. That it is conceivable.

And every single time my body states otherwise.

And even now when I have this overtly optimistic thoughts I am smacked down by a long pain streak that reminds me how horrific it is to work through that. How little sleep I get. How that makes the pain worse. How I get locked into a viscous cycle.

Then, once again, I understand I cannot work full time. It is not that I am a slow learner, although clearly history would suggest in this area I am, but that I am meeting a limit. I am meeting a limit and resisting the fact it exists. I desire and want for it not to but it does not in fact change the fact the limit is solid, a firm line, a solid freaking wall a smack into and not going anywhere any time soon. A limit that if I desire any wellbeing and quality of life I have to exist within and not exceed.
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