I am feeling very funky today and do not know why.
Luckily, I can say that this is aberrant; thank you, SNRI, hormones, and counseling. And contrary to what might seem logical to someone who may be in a situation like my previous one, where logic and reasoning appear viable and are actually crap: No, aberrant doesn’t make it feel worse than when it was an everyday occurrence and I was “used to it.” It’s still better than the aforementioned suckitude that was my life before antidepressants (et al).
Obvious potential reasons would include lack of exercise, lack of sunlight, lack of stretching (though I am trying to do some every day now), lack of sleep – even though I’ve probably had more sleep in the last 3 days that in the previous 5-7, cold weather/general time of year, busy work/lack of vacation, etc. ad nauseam. Oh, and too much sugar because SOMEONE suggested THESE and SOMEONE made them, and therefore, I blame THEM for forcing me to pick it up and eat it because for God’s sake, it can’t be my own fault. I mean, I am American/white/female/whatever, so nothing is my fault anyway. Ever.
And probably, really all of those things are in play here, but today, it feels like the ever-growing snowball. I feel out of sorts, off-kilter, not at peace. I was reading about Crisitunity’s yin and yang (and realizing that I need to go back to my Taoist study, and I don’t mean the study of my husband), and somewhere in the middle of feeling wonderful for her because she has reached an important place, I also realized that I have forgotten that place for myself.
I almost remember the moment when I realized that I was happy with my life – with my home, with my family, with my job, with my ‘place’ in the world (okay, maybe it was just that I stopped caring so damn much what that last one “meant” – as if my own personal tiny life must be so hugely important as to require a “meaning”). I remember the peace that came with that, a peace that had obviously been building, but the realization of its existence really seated it within me. I remember feeling comfortable in my own skin for the first time in years, no longer subscribing to the “if only” thinking that held me captive: if only I can be more successful in my career, if only I can be a better mother, if only I can lose weight, if only I can cram 48 hours of life into a 24-hour day, if only… then I’ll be happy, whole, content, what have you. Suddenly, yes, those things would be nice, but I could still stop and enjoy what was around me. Somehow, though, I’ve misplaced that feeling.
I’m sure that my work has a lot to do with it, and probably, to be honest, it is the primary reason. My work never ends, never takes a break. It is 24/7/365, and it works hard to demand that I am there for all of them. Though I have become successful in my career, it is not quite to the level that I want to be, and that would be directly because I require sleep, food, and time NOT spent working. It turns out that I might even require vacation time, which I’ve heard is translated as “time spent not checking in on work 4 times a day, let alone working,” and maybe, just maybe even to not feel guilty during said vacation time. I need time that I know, without a doubt, that unless there is an emergency, no one is going to be calling or needing my help. I need time that I know is mine. Now to figure out a strategy for taking on that beast.
It won’t stop there though because even if (when, think when) I’m successful in taming my work life, then I have to take on the rest of my life: How to deal with me. Which is another post (novel) entirely.
Tomorrow morning: Yoga. For me.