Here I am, minding my own business on a Tuesday night, when I remember: it’s post night! I have no backlog! I want to keep this rhythm up again! Five in a row! Write write write!
…Though I have absolutely nothing in mind to talk about other than how tired I am. I’ve got a slew of jewelry commissions to do and I haven’t the energy to do anything about them. I do believe it’s time to cut my losses, and collapse in bed.
I’m not sure if I’m not getting enough sleep (I’m not) or if I’m downswinging (I probably am.) I know I had such bad insomnia Sunday night that I didn’t fall asleep until 5 am Monday morning, so when my alarm went off at 7, I called my boss and explained that I couldn’t see straight, and assured her I’d be in by noon.
I know it frustrates her, how often I get sick, or “sick,” depending on if I’m actually physically sick, or need a mental health day. Unfortunately, I have the World’s Most Useless Immune System (TM) so I get physically sick a LOT, on top of having pretty frequent panic attacks or downswings where I would be completely useless at work and probably not even safe to drive there. Now that I work a half-hour from home, instead of right around the corner, I spend a lot of time on the freeways and that can be bad if I’m suicidal. That insidious voice starts whispering, “How would anyone know it was suicide if you get into a car accident on your way to work?” and I make sure I stay EXACTLY in my lane, go the speed limit, and don’t do anything stupid behind the wheel. That whisper is extremely disconcerting. Granted, my psychiatrist often reminds me, “suicidal thoughts never killed anyone,” but when I’m already depressed, thoughts that I could act on with the flick of a wrist are dangerous. Usually at that point I just try and remind myself that with all of the safety features in my car, at worst I’d be badly maimed and then even more miserable for a damn good reason, and probably locked in the state hospital.
Huh. I guess I did have something to write about. I think I’m going to go to bed now.