Cargo

The week so far has been a tough one.
I've been to see the physiotherapist who is convinced that I have no fibromyalgia, but just a helluvalotof stress.
Stress.

Mmmm.
The realisation that I might just have a burnout and the realisation that I've been walking around like this for years, is daunting.
It might just be about time to admit that perhaps all is not as dandy as I thought it was, and that it really is time to lay some of that cargo I've been slugging around, down.

Had a great conversation with two colleagues, who both thought that yes, I do have a burnout, and one suggested that it might be a great idea to give myself the gift of a burnout.
That the burnout would give me time off work, and time to recuperate again from stress and heal my body.
The idea is growing on me.
The other colleague suggested I pick a date, and then after having finished all the work that I wanted to complete, I should then call in sick.
Gives my control freak-can't-let-anything-go-self a chance to plan my mental breakdown.
(And yes, I have to snigger when I write this).

Anyway.
I have the fervent belief that things will get better.
Eventually.
Even if it calls for drastic measures like admitting to myself that I do have a burnout and should tell my boss this news as well.

Sigh.
Sigh.
Sigh.


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