I hate change ... when it's too much, too quickly

And, in the workaday part of my life, exactly that may be happening ... a meeting tomorrow with my boss and somebody from the corporate office, detailing what will happen next at our local group of two newspapers when my boss moves on, as she told me today that she's doing.

All this as I still try to get out of newspapers, and at the same time try to figure out ... from newspapers to where? And what geographic location?

And, all this just 3.5 months after moving here from a bad job, which I needed to escape. And feeling I've been sold a partial bill of goods now. And, per my previous post, still wondering what I need to do to change job/career paths, and where I go to learn some tips, tricks and techniques for how to do that, while doing another slow burn at feeling unskilled by nature, negative nurture, upbringing issues and more.

I don't expect too much sympathy, or empathy. First, there's people in today's America in worse circumstances. Second, from the majority of family, I don't expect sympathy or understanding about, or acknowledgement of, the background issues I just listed. Nor do I expect much of anything else. Add in my irreligiousness, and that cuts down more on the sympathy route.

It's also cuts down on the amount of confiding I can do.

I hate change, too much, too quickly, especially being sober for years and no way to hide from it, and being older, and somehow feeling more trapped by it.

Sometimes, I'm a survivor, in a good way. Other times, I'm a survivor who only wants to survive and not risk the risks of being a thriver more.

A man child

THE MAN-CHILD LIVES

I feel like a man-child

Wandering in a digital cybersea

Still a naïf about so much in life

And, because of that, and because of why that is,

Still wary, still cautious, still guarded.

While human nature is malleable,

Nonetheless, like crude stell on anvil forge,

It becomes brittle with too much beating.

And so, I am guarded, and wary of situations,

As well as people;

Opportunities though such challenges may be.

How many others, like me,

Were made old souls, more than born,

From premature aging

Or premature beating on unforgiving anvils?