I’m sitting at my desk. Where I’ve been sitting. Alone. Inside my home. For days.

I’ve barely left this desk for anything other than food and sleep this week.

I’m sitting here. Replaying all of my mistakes for the week.

There are a lot of them.

I know about them because my boss makes sure to point them out. Repeatedly. Every time she speaks to me.

I’m trying to talk myself through how they all happened. I’ve taken on the work of two other people. In addition to my already hefty workload.

I’m not unfamiliar with working multiple jobs while only getting paid for one.

It’s why I left education.

But I’m absolutely capable of doing good work while overburdened. I’ve been doing it most of my adult life.

And mostly, these aren’t actual mistakes I’m making. I’m just not being…perfect.

I’m wording emails in my own way. I’m managing projects my own way. I’m scheduling meetings my own way.

And none of my ways is…perfect.

Perfection is not something I’ve ever strived for. Perfection is boring. And anxiety.

I don’t require more anxiety. Or boring.

A month ago I turned 50.

Shortly after that, I lost my light.

Just been living in nearly pure darkness for a few weeks now.

I’ve stopped running.

It’s hard to run in the dark. Without light.

Haven’t lifted a single weight.

My phone over here holding up a mirror to how desperate my fitness has become.

Just been holed up in my house. Alone. Working. Imperfectly.

And I blamed it on turning 50. I blamed menopause. I blamed feeling lonely. I blamed it on being unworthy.

But as I sit here at 5:56pm. Something magical happens.

I turn my Out of Office message on and my work computer off.

And immediately. Immediately. I feel a glimmer of light. Absolute immediate light.

Not, like, the full on shining beam of happiness. Because I know this time off is temporary.

But there is a glimmer. A sweet little glimmer of hope.

And I’m just gonna do all the things I can to build on that for the next week.

So that I have a little more armor built up. When that Out of Office message turns off. And that work computer turns on.

And I am again reminded of my imperfections.