I have been tired. I have been very, very tired. I have had a lot to say but no energy to say it. I’ve never been more tired in my life than I have been lately.
I haven’t been sleeping very well. It’s probably gone on longer than two weeks but I can say for sure that it’s been bad these last two weeks. I’d wake up several times a night and take forever to fall back to sleep. Or, I don’t at all. I toss and turn until morning and go to work groggy and crabby…er than usual.
My left eyelid has been twitching. Since late July. I googled it and one of the possible factors is caffeine. I have stopped and restarted coffee several times but it’s still twitching. I don’t think it’s the coffee. I don’t know what the hell it is. I don’t think it’s anything serious. But it’s annoying.
I’m in denial about being stressed out. I like to say I don’t get stressed ever but, let’s face it, nobody’s immune to stress. Sooo…I’m stressed out. Maybe. I’ve already mentioned what it is that I’m maybe stressed about. I’ve printed my resignation letter. I’m half-hearted about it, because, what if this is as good as it gets? Granted it’s not the best but what if it is? What if I was never meant to get the absolute best but only, say, sixth best? And this is the sixth best and if I let it go there will be nothing left for me? What then? I don’t know, but I know I have to do it.
My mother’s seventh death anniversary was last month. The seventh isn’t typically momentous. The first year is. The second, yes. The third and fourth make your head spin but you don’t end up in a heap on the floor. The fifth, it all comes back and there’s a high chance you do end up on the floor. The next several years leading up to the tenth, you shed a tear, quietly. The tenth…let’s not go there. But see, the seventh year isn’t supposed to be momentous. Except, for me, it was. I was crying every day for about a week before the day itself, and on the day itself, I was a wreck. I hid it well from the world but really I was wiping up tears the whole day, bemoaning my sad existence without her. I don’t know what it was. It just happened. My mother is dead. I was distraught. So I cried. It happens.
I feel…rudderless. I feel like this year has been nothing but a series of disappointments and heartaches. I desperately wish that life would work itself out, and let me be happy.