“Bring it in; I need something for the blog!” I directed Hubby as I pulled out my phone, flipped the camera and “cheesed” with the souvenir cup of Coke Zero he had just brought me from a Wrigley Field concession stand.
This was a few days before my 5-year sober anniversary, and true to form, my brain was whirring away, jumping ahead, scheming and plotting and writing checks it was far too cluttered and chaotic to actually cash.
Case in point: It’s two weeks later, and I can’t even type one paragraph without my own words sidetracking me off onto a random tangent. 🧠🔃
There’s a lot going on right now with my transition from the Class of 2024 to working as a full-time therapist in a private group practice, which is turning out to be equal parts “dream job” and “be careful what you wish for,” in the sense that great freedom brings great Imposter Syndrome. Cutting through all the anxiety to form coherent thoughts, much less sitting down to craft them into sentences, much less imbuing those sentences with wisdom, is proving exceedingly difficult as of late. 😰
Continue reading “Evolution”
Jen Wielgus Journalism 