God, I’m tired. Like monumentally exhausted. I’d say my non-fatigued to fatigued daily ratio is 1:6. I’ve been distracted and stressed enough to forget important meetings, confuse my regular schedule (because it changes daily), and have panic attacks while taking out the trash. Yesterday I almost took the wrong highway to my destination. My appetite is all over the place. I don’t really want to eat anything but ice cream and even then, I’m a rather uninterested in it. Oh, cereal! Cereal has now become a central focus in my life. Thanks, Rory Gilmore.
My goal today was to finish sorting through shit for my thesis so I can start piecing it together and hopefully meet the January 1 deadline. So far, I’ve only accomplished about 1/4 of my intended goal while drinking coffee, having a conversation with a professor, nibbling on a cheeseburger, checking Facebook, listening to Pandora, and watching the latest episode of The Vampire Diaries. Did I mention I play episodes of Parenthood in the background while I type? No? I’m also supposed to Skype with a friend later. And I have to tutor other people’s kids for a few hours. And I’m waiting on important e-mails to arrive, as well as notification of when I can take my car in to have a recalled part replaced.
When did this become my life?
Bills, deadlines, bullshit, stress, worry, insomnia, irregular heartbeat, frustration, anxiety, and traffic. FUCKING TRAFFIC.
When did the joy disappear?
September 25, 2014. That’s when joy vanished. I’m pretty sure. Something really fucking awful happened on September 25th and I can’t seem to crawl out of the chasm that appeared under my feet. I’m somewhere down there, just above the scorching flames of hell, and just below that mysterious land of acid trips where unicorns and leprechauns run freely. I like to call that mysterious land, “The Vacation I Never Took.”
I have good days and bad days and today feels like the latter. I woke up with this burden hovering over my eyes like a damn rain cloud full of liquid lead. Just before I awoke, I had a nightmare related to the events of September 25th. The thing you, dear readers, should know about my nightmares is that they are chronic and very realistic. I feel pain when I dream and wake feeling sore and weary. F you, REM cycle, my nemesis. In this particular nightmare, I felt like I teleported into the mind of another person…like our dreams were being linked so we could converse and say all the things we haven’t been able to. Then I woke up and wished so much that the dream was real. Instead of feeling joy, I was overcome with sadness and disappointment; like god (or the universe or whoever) had toyed with my subconscious and gave me this nightmare to fuck with me. I’m not thankful for the dream because I know it’s not reality. My reality is still hell.
There isn’t an amount of meditation or prayer to bring me peace (or so it seems right now). There’s only staying busy and occasionally frantic, just so I remain distracted long enough to get a reprieve. I’m able to forget for a few hours a day at best; then I feel hopeful that at some point, this turmoil will abate. And then the night rolls around again, filling my mind (and body) with the truth of the chaos that’s become my life.
It wasn’t so amazeballs before September 25th, so maybe the events of that day just magnified the discrepancies in my daily conduct.
That place, The Vacation I Never Took, I should go there…maybe they have cereal.