Stressed.
I know its the reason I can't work on my book.
The money is diminishing.
What does budget mean?
We need to learn.
Maybe I want to go back to work. But I'd feel guilty putting my little stink bomb in day care. I want to write. I want to write articles, be a freelancer. I want to be published
But there is no money in this profession. There's no promise of success. The ladder up is murky.
Why do it?
I could go back to the desk job. I could put my headset on and call people who must have it worse than me. Their basement is flooded. Their house burned down.
yes, they have it much worse.
no, I don't want to go back to the desk job.
Maybe I've got Mom Shock.
Go from working a full time job since I was eighteen to staying home at 30. We didn't know what budget meant back then.
I love staying home, but it's a different world. How to adjust?
I have departed from old friends and found new ones.
Old irritants compound with every connection. Yet I see slivers of hope. God opens my eyes, but Satan wants to shut them.
God give me patience!
God forgive my hateful words!
Lord Help Me to write for You and stop dwelling on me!
God, help me Hear You. . .
Only You, Lord.
I know its the reason I can't work on my book.
The money is diminishing.
What does budget mean?
We need to learn.
Maybe I want to go back to work. But I'd feel guilty putting my little stink bomb in day care. I want to write. I want to write articles, be a freelancer. I want to be published
But there is no money in this profession. There's no promise of success. The ladder up is murky.
Why do it?
I could go back to the desk job. I could put my headset on and call people who must have it worse than me. Their basement is flooded. Their house burned down.
yes, they have it much worse.
no, I don't want to go back to the desk job.
Maybe I've got Mom Shock.
Go from working a full time job since I was eighteen to staying home at 30. We didn't know what budget meant back then.
I love staying home, but it's a different world. How to adjust?
I have departed from old friends and found new ones.
Old irritants compound with every connection. Yet I see slivers of hope. God opens my eyes, but Satan wants to shut them.
God give me patience!
God forgive my hateful words!
Lord Help Me to write for You and stop dwelling on me!
God, help me Hear You. . .
Only You, Lord.
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