I’m fried; too many projects needing attention within the same time span, and I’m behind on several, and the agency’s technology isn’t working so well, and I’ve had too many long days and commutes. So I’ll borrow words from another blogger whom I adore:
Of course, it’s PMS time in my world, so most everything and everyone shows up with a hateful little halo around them, as if because of the dip in my estrogen levels, my brain refuses to do its usual Isn’t It All So Lovely Dance. I force myself to go running, to lift weights, to go for a walk in the forest motivated by those hateful little mosquitos to jog for at least part of the way. I refuse to let myself eat funky stuff or drink alcohol. I resist the urge to pick up the phone and whine. I show up to work on time.
Because this too shall pass. I will eventually catch up on sleep, and complete all the projects at work, and finish my last day without having had a meltdown.
–Kate Turner, Dating God
Me too with the seismic hormonal shifts. The only hitches are: I haven’t been working out, I’ve been eating funky stuff. I catch myself off-guard and notice that my jaw is clenched, or my leg muscles are taut. I’m tense and tired. My body isn’t serving me very well since I am exhausted more often than not in the past few months. Frankly, I’m getting old. I’m psychologically okay with that, but gosh, I wish my body had more pep than it does. (And I’m trying to procreate?)
World news isn’t helping. Nor is the Brave New World of Carry-on Baggage Restrictions. (I’m rather a homebody and I actively dislike flying anymore. This turn of events is more disincentive.)
But I too will prevail. My last day is, oh, about 10 weeks away. Soon enough.
I worked for so many years like you describe yourself working–and gave up a lot of my life. Only I didn’t realize it until now when I work part-time at a less stressful job. You say only 10 weeks–but that’s just on this part of the job, right? I don’t know how you still fit in your art and writing, but somehow, renaissance woman, you do. Here’s to you–hip, hip, hooray.
Here is a cheer for you – as Fran says – it is wonderful that you are still able to fit in your art and writing!
I, too, have noticed diminished energy with the passage of years. What else to do but keep on moving. My girlfriend (if that’s an okay term for someone who is very grown up and I’ve lived with for nigh on 13 years) has a 4 year old granddaughter, and keeping up with her is tiring and the most fun I’ve ever had (or at least way up there in ranking). I never had children, and this is the closest I’ll come. My advice is: if it’s what you want don’t hesitate.
gerry
Re: carry-on baggage
Lisa and I just flew from Sea-Tac. It took us twenty minutes to get to the gate despite the airport being packed full.
The lady in the security line behind us asked permission to bring the diaper rash cream for her baby aboard. The TSA guy wandered off, consulted his supervisor, and they decided it would be okay. While everyone at the gates were waiting for their planes while reading the news of horrible passenger delays, we just didn’t see it.
You have said what I wanted to say to you…conception and implantation and successful gestation is generally less probable when the mother-to-be is under stress. Delete stress.
Greetings from sunny Iceland, where my granddaughters are now on a whale-watching boat ride here in Husavik.
Carry On!
Bill