Ok. I know I’ve been doing the mope mopey mope mope about having no job after next week, but after a week of sleeping very poorly (all told, less than 5 hours a night, and averaging under 3), terrible transit issues making the evil commute eviler, and having too much to do in the time I do have, I am totally about to implode.
I know it’s very “First World Issues” of me, but I’m thinking I’m getting close to a mental break. Maybe if I sleep as much as possible this weekend? Sad as it is, I’m looking forward to going to bed early tonight. . . But I’ll exercise this weekend, which will hopefully help in the energy collapse problem I’m dealing with currently – I’m helping my dad tomorrow with fitting our ditches with river rock so we don’t have to mow the evil steepity of the ditches anymore. He’s had a heart health scare and I don’t want him to do _all_ the work himself. Plus, squats are good for the glutes and quads. And Sunday, the boyfriend and I are going to hike a new trail for us (look out for photos!!) before a yummy backyard BBQ! So that’ll be nice and relaxing.
It feels kind of like I’m tearing in two right now. Part of me really needs to find a job, get working, start earning/saving/moving out of my parents’ place/growing up. But another part is feeling so stressed out right now that I’m pretty sure my immune system has gone completely haywire. And maybe excessive office air-conditioning isn’t helping out, but my internal body climate control is seriously on the fritz and I cannot sleep even if it’s mildly warm and slightly humid anymore. Which, thank you circularity, means that on top of everything it’s harder to sleep, and getting harder all the time. Thus making me even more twitchy and stressed out.
It’s like this morning, while waiting for the subway, I hit a metaphorical wall. A mental roadblock, if you will. Waiting an extra 8 minutes for the subway due to a disabled train further back on the line became the one more thing that I couldn’t take. The piece of straw that the camel swore lustily at for all the back surgeries. It’s not a big deal really, nothing I haven’t gone through before (thanks, woefully underfunded transit system! You rock). But today it’s like part of me said, “You know what? No. No more.” and then went on vacation. Leaving the rest of my over-stressed self to take up the slack. But that rest of me is about to need back surgery too. It probably doesn’t help that I’m waiting to hear that I won’t get a second interview, that I have some horrible disease, and that my credit card will be hacked again. You know, something crappy. On edge would be one way to describe it. . .
So here I am. Teetering at the edge of space. And I don’t know if I’d change a thing. Well, maybe I’d change my paycheque to a nicer, more useful number. But, as my mom wisely says, you can’t have everything.
At this juncture, if I were a doctor, I think I’d prescribe sitting on a patio on a balmy summer evening with a tall glass of refreshing malt (or liquor/mixed) beverage condensating on the table beside me while attempting to write the Great Canadian Novel. Though, I should probably stick to poetry to start . . .
Though who knows how the muse will take me 😉