In September I embarked on a  new career path to become Physical Therapist Assistant. With the help of a worker retraining grant, I enrolled in prerequisite courses. It was a huge step for me after 25 years as an early childhood educator. I love teaching, but I am ready to try a field where I will be able to educate and help people while having my time respected by an actual living wage. I filled in a lot forms and attended orientations. There were few sleepless nights as well, but now I am half-way through anatomy and physiology and doing “A” grade work. I am thinking something interesting might come out of these shaky first steps in September, at least some stretching of my experiential bounderies and some poetry.

9/1

Journal Entry:

At the Orientation

“Daniel types like this,” he announces pointing his index fingers out, moving them up and down in front of his body.

9/2

Journal Entry:

It was a rough night, full of worry and tossing. I am resolved today to face fears and find a path through them. Nothing is desperate right now. Why do I let this get to me? My brain works on all the wrong things. I should be looking for wonder and joy; instead I find fear and apathy.

9/6

Dream:

A simple and exact cardboard cutout house all with finely drawn details, Kevin Costner appears in a cut out window hefting a bottle of Jack Daniels.

“I hated Wall Street,” he proclaims and moves away into the surrounding darkness.

Journal Entry:

Each day is a different me, but still nothing moves forward.

9/9

Poem:

Skin in the Game

I never want to hurt anyone

Including and mostly myself

But, I can never stop

                                    not Being.

Potential Protagonist?

Where should I begin? Oh, yeah how about here? Right in the middle. Bramble says that the middle is the only place you will ever be. That makes sense, since you can’t really start over and at the end, well, it’s over.

Who is Bramble? He’s my sometimes friend and sometimes antagonist. Does that make me the protagonist? I am the protagonist of my life I guess.

9/10

Journal entry:

Saturday in September and I have nothing . . . nothing . . . nothing . . .

9/11

Dream Door:

Huge double door all of golden wood and twice my height with the round cross sections of 3 trees embedded in two thirds of a circle and cut down the middle with a tree cross section on either side of center line and one bisected below in the middle.

9/12

Journal Entry:

The scared little man was shouting in my head all night, all the nagging little fears personified. I woke several times with his shrill voice screaming about nothing in particular.

9/26

This Morning’s Self- Assessment

An average man, pale, wizard crazy silver blonde hair piled like clouds on top, 53, anxious, unemployed mostly, battling fears and taking on uncertain projects, always struggling with priorities, hoarding objects because memories seem so tenuous, nothing stays long in the mind always something else catches the eye and drags it all away. Learning by some process where disparate items coalesce in chaotic masses before focusing into a sort of order.

9/28

Journal Entry:

I feel so much calmer today, without any real reason. I just get going on worries, and they cascade, gain weight. There are so many things to do, but none of them overwhelming.