Working on Sundays

I do try to work with the rest of my beautiful family. The fact is that they are many, and even if the little one doesn’t talk to me for more than 5 minutes, which is rare, someone else will. So of course what are you going to tell them: stop sharing? stop talking to me? (which I have done, and it’s crazy). So there you go, I go upstairs.
Father’s day today, I see declarations of passionate love for fathers a bit all over, my dad and I, my family and I, we kind of know we care, but we never tell each other. As my sister told me, I was the only one who would occasionally burst out and say christ tell me you love me! or christ you know i love you that’s enough anger! (mostly to my mum).
I am constantly pervaded with feelings of love here and there left and right, to various recipients and most of them I cannot tell.
I love my family immensely, I can tell them and I do, but of course they don’t always see the best part of me. I am working round the clock, and looking forward to no holiday no respite. I try to be appreciative, I am! I was happier before, truthfully, when I worked but we went out, saw friends who made me laugh and I thought cared about me… then I realise no I need to work, need to save, and we still will see friends occasionally, but mostly it’s work, every day, 7/7. If not working sleep, watch a series or try and do something for one of the many members of this family. Feeding a cat mopping a floor walking the dog.
I do try to keep up with the gym, though not as everyday as I’d like it: I do have lots of work to do.
I know it won’t be a constant. It seems to have no been very different in the past many years, ad when it is, we go broke very fast.
There doesn’t seem to be much choice there.
Meditation for this post, and I’m aware of it, is the man carrying a lot of sticks, in a very awkward manner.

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