Welcome back Socket Seekers,
So yesterday we addressed the Pickle cartel and we identified one of their generals in the comments
@Devlyn. I feel like yesterday's post set the correct level of seriousness for my blog.
But today, I have to take a break from trying to crack the pickle cartel to do my therapy homework. Normally I would procrastinate and talk about the Chocolate Covered Weapon of Mass Destruction that General
@Devlyn posted pictures of.
Instead, welcome to my therapy homework assignment, and I didn't delay it until the morning it was due.
I told her I was thinking about delaying my move and my social transition.
I have a good-paying job and selling my soul for a couple more years means I may not need to get a new job.
I would need to live on a tighter budget and visiting Taco Bell isn't going to be a daily activity—my colon will like that.
But I could reasonably live on my savings and retirement money until I reach Social Security age.
The bonus is that this plays perfectly into my agoraphobia and anxiety issues. My therapist would say that those issues are driving this decision, but she has to be wrong at some point and I am choosing to believe she is wrong here.
In an act of defiance, I do the math every month in hopes of escaping. But mathematics keeps pointing out how delusional my plan is.
I am trying to decide if suffering through hiding myself for two more years is better than having to start over at a new company.
There is no safety net here. I don't have family to fall back on if the equation fails.
I have been with my current financial overlords for over a decade. If I extend my servitude with them just a little longer, I think the math might finally work out.
Money is the ultimate insulation. If I have enough of it, I can buy complete isolation, and isolation is the only place my anxiety feels quiet. Delaying the transition isn't just a career move; it's a tactical retreat behind a wall of financial security.
The other thing she wanted to talk about is that I feel like giving up on transitioning. I know I have said this before, but I was instructed by her to not bottle it up inside like I normally do.
I envision myself as one of those soda delivery trucks from the early 80s—the ones where when you roll up the side door, there is just a solid wall of glass bottles.
She has this way of going, "You seem happy, let's see what trauma is in all of these." Then she shoves over my nice neat stack of bottles that then explode.
Those shattered bottles unleashed a flurry of dark clouds that are taking over today's blog.
Then I end up crying and single-handedly funding the worldwide takeover of the Kleenex Corporation. Although she did say she is sponsored by Puffs. Follow the money.
So that is today's post. Not silly Pickle Cartel jokes today. Just stupid self-reflection.
Useless recap, yep they won't stop:- General Devlyn is planning an assault on the chocolate industry. It will never be the same.
- Mathematics refuses to cooperate.
- Delaying transition out of fear or cowardice.
- My therapist is a 12-year-old with a BB gun.
Disclaimer: Kleenex, I am sorry I keep mentioning you. Please don't sue me; you will make mathematics more evil.
