MeghanIsMe

I noticed I was picking at my lips like I do when I'm stressed, and said to myself "Don't pick your lips, puppy girl. Use your lip balm." And I did, and I told myself "Good girl!" and for whatever reason, I actually got the same happy endorphins as I sometimes do when Miriam calls me good girl, and it's pretty nice!

I'm making phone calls today.

Canada Immigration and Refugees says they are still processing mail from August. I sent my solemn declaration that I did not receive my PR card to them a few weeks ago, so it will be a while before they get to mine. But once they do, the will send the card.

The agent confirmed that the old card was sent to my former address at Fines Drive. Given the email I sent to the landlord there, it's not surprising that he wouldn't forward things on to me.
I also learned that they had my postal code in the system incorrectly, ending with 2K7 instead of 2K8. So the've updated that now. Maybe if the backlog progresses in approximate synch with the passage of time, I guess I'll have a PR card some time in December?

I just tried calling GRS Montreal because they said they were going to send me things in email and I don't have them. But it's 6:00 PM there right now, so they're closed. Tomorrow.

Earlier today I got on my bike to exercise today, and the saddle broke. Whee. Almost literally. Instead I walked on a treadmill for 45 minutes while watching yuri.

I parked at one of the two-level bike racks for the first time yesterday. I was at the local expat center for my appointment to get a BSN and be a legal Dutch resident.



I keep wondering whether any of the people who make memes about cute ways to deal with impostor syndrome have ever had impostor syndrome or known anyone who does. Or maybe mine is worse than most. I can't see any of them working, and most would just make me more anxious. The ones that are based on some kind of rejection of the concept of being an impostor are impossible; if they weren't, I wouldn't have impostor syndrome. The ones that involve accepting my impostor status would make me even more anxious as part of accepting that I do not, in fact, belong where I am.