Paris, Day 16. It's a horrible feeling to find yourself on the wrong side of the halfway point. And an even worse feeling to be on the downward slide to home time and have the Giant Ungainly Neverending Soul-Crushing Work Project that you hoped would be finished before you LEFT for Paris follow you TO Paris and threaten to poison the precious few days you have left.
The Depression Project returns.
The clients were three weeks late with their comments on my first drafts, but OF COURSE they've sent them to me now. Which means if this project is to stay on schedule, it's all up to me. In Paris.
This makes my personal issues flare up like teenage acne.
I spent all day yesterday grinding over the rewrites, which are more like primal therapy sessions than text edits. I tried desperately to remember this is about helping kids and not about clients completely overstepping their bounds and totally f*cking up my life. I tried to force the words 'complete waste of a day' out of my mind.
And in the end, none of that worked. I had two modules (out of SEVEN) rewritten and I felt like crying.
Why? Because it wasn't supposed to happen this way and I can't let that fact go.
Why? Because this project is an endless game of Melanie Pours Her Heart Out And 10 People Repeatedly Judge Her, Screaming 'DANCE MONKEY DANCE!'
Why? Because I'm in EFFING PARIS, yo, and would very much like to tell my clients to SUCK IT but am too much of a people-pleasing asshole to do it.
Can someone out there please Fed Ex me some boundaries? Or perhaps several pounds of Xanax?
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