Dash it all! Work interferes with my life at every turn.
I've been suffering the particular malaise of being deprived of my personal pleasures: the quiet time to read, to write, to paint and to cook. Out of sorts and unable to concentrate, it's been a struggle to get through a work day and then stay asleep when I do fall asleep. When I come home from work there has been little energy to do much of anything other than veg on the couch. Three months slipped by between the January post and the last post and I just now noticed!
Three months! So much for the Proliferation Resolution. Don't feel left out, Geekfriends. My German blog is suffering my absence as well. When I strive to write more posts I fail. When I care not one wit, not a jot, then I can write like NYT columnist. I'd ask WTF but I am afraid of the answer.
Most days the exhaustion sets in around 3 then there is the latent push to finish work and get home. During the Winter this is always an issue due to Seasonal Affective Disorder. This year there were other factors. Come to think of it, it's been the Winter of Discontent three out of the last four years. Perhaps some of this is age enhanced. I shudder to think what the next three years will bring. I should begin to plan for a sunny retirement. Not that I will be able to cease my toil. I am sure I will have to work 20 years past my death to accommodate past and future creditors. Or at least to pay for the funeral.
At any rate, with the Sun gaining time over the dark of night, sleep is more elusive. I find that I need to do more when there is Sunlight. It is as if some biologic or programming code kicks in and decided that no matter how tired and physically exhausted I am, I must be doing. Something. Anything. As long as it is doing, my brain and my indomitable soul don't really care. The problem is my body cares. My body would like to beat the snot out of my brain to buy a few weeks of uninterrupted sleep. I am asleep walking through most everything and it is slowly driving me mad.
Madness and I are acquainted. But I can not say I enjoy his company.
Really. I'd just like to sleep. To enjoy some peaceful moments with some of my favorite things and not have to think, do or say anything. To exist. Just to exist in a moment that is not meant for anyone but myself would be a gift beyond measure. And preferably before I forget who I am.
My most authentic self is slipping off to some place where I am not sure I can follow. The last time that happened there was a nervous breakdown that cost me several years of recovery from my divorce.
I am old and restless. 40 is the new 30 is a lie.