My mind's not broken, but it sure feels stressed. My body is not providing the support needed to keep the cogs well oiled. It's just a little off and I can't nudge it where I want it to go. I would like to visit normal for a while, just a little while. I'm weary.
I have decisions to make, but I hide under the covers rationalizing that if I get more rest, all will be well. Just postponed until I have to jump or be pushed in a direction not of my choosing.
Overwhelmed. Insufficiently medicated...I miss the thyroid medication! Unwilling to commit. Unwilling to trust my own instincts. Wanting to stay inside. Putting on my work face so I can make some money, then putting it in my pocket until it is next needed. My real face feels long, stretching down to the ground, in danger of being tread upon. I don't care if you tread on me! I just don't care right now! I just want to be someplace safe where I can step outside the world for a bit! If I had money, I'd take a vacation, if my workaholic ways permitted. If I allowed myself to feel joy.
This isn't holiday stress/melancholy/blues. This is a different size and a different flavor. I liberated myself from celebrating holidays I no longer wish to acknowledge. There is no pressure, no stress, no drive to create a perfect memory of a perfect day.
Nothing tastes good. Nothing is funny. The outfit I liked no longer appeals to me. The book I was reading has been cast aside. I no longer have a crush. I don't care about taking care of myself right now.
There are a dozen things that I need to finish or start. I don't care. If I had a traditional job, I'd call in with a "flu thing" and hide under the covers a bit longer.
But I drag myself out every day, put on my work face, do what has to be done, then put the work face away. And then crawl back under the covers and pray that this ache will end.
