So . . . I went to the psychiatrist today to get my meds adjusted. I’ve been given ups for a month, then I have to go back to see how I’m doing. She agreed that it’s entirely situational . . . and that I “need to let things go” and “let people fail.” She told me to *not* work extra, and to leave work at work.
Work *is* me, though. I take what I do seriously and personally. With pride. Too much, perhaps. My desk is a mess because I’d rather help patrons or learn my collection than plow through months of mail and catalogs.
If I don’t save the world, who will? My ego runs rampant, it aways has. How can I change 33 years of obsessing overnight? I can’t. Baby steps baby steps baby steps. But when you make it a point to walk like you’re carrying a gun, baby steps are very awkward.