Odd Baby Sprout

I've been untwining myself from my workplace.
I mean, that seems to be happening, whether I'm doing it actively or not, and now the connections that were sparking all the time are . . . not.

It's like the noisy, bright midway at a fair has shut down.
Quiet and dark.  

"I don't know anybody!"
I do. But without work connections firing all the time, I've felt a bit panicked and empty. Lonely.
I sense that I just have to wait this out, this discomfort, and see what sprouts.

I put together a thing this morning: Odd Baby Sprout.
I'd woken up thinking, I want to meet new people.
I meant flesh people, but here's a starter friend.

I want to meet new people?
What?
Do I?
I haven't felt that impulse in this decade, the 2020s. Rather the opposite--I couldn't stand more, like one more Brussels sprout when you're overstuffed.

It's nice, this feeling of wanting.
A REALLY WEIRD thought has been humming in my mind:
'I want to fall in love'.
Not with a person (not necessarily––I can't imagine that). I think it's my mind/heart signaling that it's open for business again?

I'm hesitant to mention it.
I've wondered if my sudden lack of feeling for my workplace (that came on in late November) was a sign of PTSD burnout. Work has been that horrific at times.
I feared the blankness I felt signaled a shut-down of Soul.

But now I'm wondering––(hoping, honestly)––if it's the opposite, that it's me recalling my resources from a done deal, taking them back for myself.

Am I okay?
I dare to hope, I'm okay.

Meanwhile, it's fine to be at work. I enjoy unpacking donations. I can't imagine I ever wouldn't enjoy that.
Otherwise, I don't care much.
I'm not dead though. I'm annoyed. I'm amused. But I'm not giving my life energy to it.

Two recentish things that weren't causes of my disconnect, more like reflections.
One. Ass'Man, who was an annoyance and an amusement, left at the end of September.
Him giving up on the place was not just about his alcoholism--it was a sane move on his part.

The other. I'd mentioned Ray showing up last fall with bright yellow eyes and taxidermied skin. I'd thought he wouldn't make it through the winter, and I haven't seen him since.
If he's not dead, I don't know what.

One cold, wet day, I'd washed his feet in the mop room, dried them, and gave him new dry socks and boots.
I don't feel that I failed Ray. But he represents an endless need I can't meet.
I've seen this one through.
I am free to leave.

Do I really feel that?

I guess I do. I really do.

Sometimes I feel panicked. But also relieved to be unhooked, and even excited to see that's next. New people? What's that?

Odd Baby bounces!