My God… what will possess my time what all this is finally over? My mind is constantly consumed with deadlines, with worry, with anxiety, with resoluteness, with focus, with anticipation.
If you’ve ever wondered what depression feels like, or if you need someone to relate to…
The words aren’t coming. I know I want to write, but I feel dry. I’m far from bored. I’m not tired. I’m just stuck. Typing with my eyes closed helps. Like feeling the words instead of picturing them. It probably helps to not be able to read and re-read and edit and second-guess everything you think of, especially on a first draft. That’s what they always say, but how can you possibly do that if you can see all the words you write? It’s natural to want to revise and refine your own thoughts. But it does get in the way of the goal; which is to communicate.
I can’t remember the last time I was this sick. I felt it coming on Wednesday night while I was in class, but I felt a bit better on Thursday morning. By 5:00 on Thursday night, though, I was fully taken over. I don’t have a thermometer that works, but my fever was high enough that I couldn’t get warm. I stayed home from work yesterday, and slept until noon. I emerged from the bedroom a couple times for food, but mostly watched Mozart in the Jungle on Amazon Prime the rest of the day. As an amateur classical pianist, it managed to hold my attention. I couldn’t do much else.
This post is literally a month in the making, so please bear with the random turns it takes…
My dad paid good money awhile back for a series of audio recordings and a workbook to help someone setup a blog. The problem with his plan was that he never listened to the recordings or went through the workbook.
At the end of my four-day Thanksgiving vacation, mentally well-armed with having washed, dried, folded, and put away every article of dirty clothing in the house, I cracked the workbook.
Life shows no signs of slowing down. My stress level seems to be at a new constant. I refuse to let the river overtake me. I signed up for this madness, so I am adapting. I am building a raft. The raft sounds boring and safe, but it’s going to keep me afloat. It’s made up of “bed by 10:00 on any night I’m not doing homework” and “accept every opportunity to spend time with friends and family”. I am not going to allow this life to alienate me from the people I love, so if it means I work and do homework for 16 hours on most days, I will do it.
My assistant called out sick this morning. And then another person quit. That makes 15 since April. I’m starting to wonder when Corporate is going to offer an incentive to get the rest of us to stay and clean up the mess. No joke: When 38% of your staff jump ship, it’s time to appreciate the people who are still around.
I’ve been mulling something over these last few days. There’s something about reading a bunch of studies about millennials that makes me sad for our generation.
“They’re not likely to stay at a job for more than three years.” Why is that? Do we have a massive sense of entitlement? Are we a fair weather friend to the organizations we work for?
In the past five days I have yelled at both my kids, had a sobbing fight with my husband, reamed one of my best friends for her behavior toward one of her family members, got into one major and several smaller arguments with my manager, nearly took the head off one of my vendors at work, threatened to terminate every vendor working on my portfolio, sent an infuriated email to my school’s financial service office, and came unglued with an undertrained Target employee.
I’ve declared a glass of red wine and no homework tonight for me! I’ll tackle the 12 pages of papers and 8 hours of reading I need to do this weekend. I usually spend Thursday nights at a friend’s house, drinking decaf coffee and catching up on life; otherwise I would never see her or the other friend I meet there.
The three of us are completely maxed out at the moment. One of them is an adjunct professor and she’s in a doctorate program. The other is a nurse, has four kids, two of whom she’s recently adopted, and her husband is in a doctorate program. They’ve become my sounding boards over the last few years. I don’t know what I would do without them. Between their crazy lives and mine, we have plenty of empathy to go around.
Here’s something I’ve been thinking about: I chose this crazy life of constant activity, so why not own it? Why complain about being busy, when really, I chose to do everything I’m doing. No one forced me to go back to school. No one is poking me with a cattle prod at work telling me to be awesome. No one would judge me if I just did a simple birthday party for the girls instead of the elaborately planned days I put together at least a month ahead of time. No one would think less of me if I didn’t get straight-As.
I’m this great on purpose, so I’ve stopped complaining about how busy I am, and I’ve started sharing the joy of my full and happy life. I’m healthy enough to keep up with it. My mind is buzzing with intellectual ideas. My relationship with the girls has never been better. Spike and I are doing an incredible job supporting each other (seriously, I don’t know what I’d do without him). Life is stellar! But nothing!
I could talk about how I’d love to have a self-cleaning house, but that’s really just another point of productive pride for me. I can be this awesome, and keep the house from looking like a catastrophe… most of the time. This week is a joke since our new plumbing sprang a leak. I’m sitting in the living room listening to the whirr of the carpet restoration fan (#thankgodwerent). My desk and its piles of books are pulled away from the wall. All the activity of the week can be told in the items strewn about the couches and tables. I’m not cleaning tonight, though. I’m writing. It’s taking some willpower, but I’m doing it!
Have I mentioned I’m an early-riser now? Our older goddaughter decided she wanted to be in choir and orchestra this year, so she starts school at 6:45. My alarm goes off at 5:45, which has never happened more than one day at a time in all my life. The truly awesome part about it though is that I work 7 am to 4 pm. The extra hour in the evenings to skip traffic, spend time with the family, and run errands is definitely contributing to my happiness factor. It’s also giving me an hour at work every morning with absolutely no interruptions. My stress levels have fallen out of sight! Who knew? Going to bed at 10:30 is weird for me, though. I don’t know when I’m going to get used to yawning at 9:00.
That about does it. I’ve run out of steam. Thank you for your comments and encouragements and thoughts. Here’s to you and your superb writing! I think about you all often.
I’ve spent morning noon and night on the computer now for weeks, but seldom does a day go by that I don’t wish I could be blogging. I realized tonight that I have this little baby Acer laptop with Windows XP that I’ve barely ever used, but would be perfect for blogging in bed. I miss writing for fun, but not enough to continue to sit at my desk after a full day of work and a full night of school.