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Stage fright begone!

Queue actually looks sane! Hooray! I've been a good little volunteer and have finally caught up to the rest of the class. Have also gotten my primary e-mail down to something sane, and have been working on backlogged comments pending my response.

In the name of both procrastination and general housekeeping, I wound up digging into my mending box and pulling out three skirts that had come up with holes. The skirt situation was getting unhappy; I was considering the idea that I might have to go to work in something that wasn't a skirt that went below my knees. Since I wear a skirt that goes down to at least mid-calf almost all of the time (because I like it that way, not for any religious reasons, though "because it makes me comfortable" might as well be a religious reason) this is a rather major thing.

Shopping was accomplished. There is applesauce. There is apple butter. There is Pepsi (but no Cock).

The timesheets were inaccessible at work. Alas! There were also problems with the TPS Reports.

I've been having massive stage fright over the new position. I was cranky enough at the secondary job tonight that part of it finally clicked: I had some spotting on Monday. Betcha it's largely hormonal. Grr. So there's potentially that. I made sure to get my St. John's Wort and my PMS capsules tonight. On the way home from dropping JD off, I thought about how shaky I've been for the last few days, and how it was really seriously going to have the potential to screw me up, and screw me up badly, if I felt like shaking and crying and throwing up just from fear and hormones. (Ordinarily, my mood doesn't have an adverse impact on my digestive system. If I'm feeling queasy because of a mood change, it's a major event.) Previously, before, I'd have reached out the moment I felt the least little sense of instability. This time, I've been largely standing on my own. Sanity check, though -- did I really have to go it 100% alone when I really needed help? I felt around in my brain. The bond's been ... not so much. Not since learning how to stand. But I've still got a best friend, and he can still connect to me, and nothing on his end has changed that I know of. There are layers to the thing. I felt around, and where the bond was normally like a sliding door with several layers of sliding, I reached out and grasped the horizontal handle. It was solid and unmoving, like a barre, for balance. Best friends can do these things. I'm already feeling so very much better. I have overcome the damage left in the wake of Shawn. We held each other close as we watched that same horrid tape loop time and time again as the planes crashed. (Okay, so maybe "close" is "he held tight to my wrist while I took notes and shivered", but still.) He stroked my hair and let me cry as the second most stable thing in my life went all shaky. I have held off a full-blown shuddering screaming crying panic attack meltdown on the strength of the concept that if I really really do need it, he is there to deal out hugs or sanity checks as needed, and unless it's something complex where I really do need advice, I can manage just fine on my own with nothing more than the reassurance that if I need it, there is someone there. Stage fright is nothing in the face of this.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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