Tortoises and hares

Diabetes, employment, Stress

I was at the bus stop earlier than the rubbish trucks on their weekly rounds, which should give you an idea as to my level of out-of-whackedness.  No one has ever accused me of being a morning person, until now.

It’s clear and cloudless, and in between passing cars, I can hear all the birds. Lovely.  I’d rather be staying here by the side of the road and listening to the birds.  Instead I am on my way to work early to face up to the repercussions of my unexpected resignation yesterday.

i had been quietly weeping at breakfast for the last week, but yesterday, after a broken night (how do new mothers do it????), it became more like a 1 in 100 year flood.  Like a real flood, this left me in need of major reconstruction.

People break at the worst times, and I am no exception.  It’s  14 days to the deadline.  I am not going to be flavour of the month when I show my face today. But am I supposed to sacrifice my health for a poorly planned project? My blood sugars have been consistently above safe and its entirely due to the unrelenting expectations of performance.  They don’t need a human, they need a machine to meet this deadline at the level of quality they want.  Or at the very least a hare.

I’ve always been a tortoise.  I can do sustained intense levels of analytical work at a slower pace.  But this is not a world for tortoises anymore.  Especially not a diabetic tortoise.

So if you happen know of of a nice, slowish pond somewhere in Canberra that’s looking for a new tortoise, drop me line.  I’d love to know.

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