One of the things about working full time at my age with everything I have to deal with on a health level on top of Umi’s health crises is that trying to promote anything regarding my books is daunting. It doesn’t help that I’ve been on medications that affect the way I think for so long that I’m starting to wonder who the hell I am anymore. I can hardly make time to write, let alone do anything else to push them forward. If I want more time to write, I get 5-6 hours sleep, maybe less. If I want to sleep and feel better, I lose writing time. If I could have even a 36-hour day, I’d be happy because I could get shit done.
I know, I know. Poor little ol’ fucking me, right? It’s damn difficult to talk about how you’re feeling without sounding like you’re whining.
The 36-hour day thing is a lie, though. We all know we’d just find more time to procrastinate, play video games, run errands (which I loathe at this stage of my life). Then you think, “Well, if I could make the same amount of money without working as many hours….” but in truth, if you’re anything like me, you’d just find more work to do that isn’t what you need/want it to be. It’s a mindset thing, really. I can’t seem to get my mind used to the idea that my writing is THE job and the IT shit is the hobby. It might have something to do with my paychecks.
Health-wise, there are a million things wrong with me, but hey, none of it is trying to kill me at this present time, so if I could just push past the fatigue and brain fog, and piercing headaches, I could actually get shit done. Right now, all I’m getting done is shit at the day job, or shit that people send to me with money attached because I do things for money. Not those things. THESE things. I started working out again, waking up at 5:00 A.M. because I’m apparently insane. Doc is slowly working me off one of three meds that affect how my brain works, or doesn’t, really; I’m just hoping the hellish pain of the pinched nerve doesn’t return with it. By the way, I started this post a while back. Hell, there’s a fifth installment of The Secret Life of Jinxie G that’s been sitting in draft since February. That’s how tired I am. I get home, get comfy (if I don’t have to go to the store or take Umi to a doctor appointment or do anything else outside the house), and veg out in front of my TV for the next few hours before bed, making dinner at some point in between, because by this point I. Am. Exhausted.
*sits up again*
I keep telling myself to STFU, stop making excuses, and get the shit done. Then my body laughs at me and I realize that I’m really not making excuses 99% of the time. Okay, maybe 90% of the time. But still….
Know what else causes the exhaustion? Allergies. My body is fighting off everything outside right now, so having to even set foot out my front door means either hives or not breathing, and I kind of like breathing. Working with people who insist on leaving a fucking door open regardless of what I say because “It’s so nice outside” does not help me in the breathing department. I’m having trouble breathing now, and I have a headache. Both signs of the allergens outside kicking my ass.
Last week, Umi and I took off to Florida for a couple of adventures. The first was to cross Hogwarts off Umi’s Bucket List. We had a blast. I’ll write up a separate post for that.
The second reason we were in Florida was because my BFF from high school got married! Seriously, I’m writing that post soon because the groom’s entrance was thunderous.
My point for telling you about the vacation is that when we returned home, I needed a vacation from my vacation. I tried to wake up at 5am to work out….no go. So I’ve decided I’ll start that routine again next week. I’m still pretty fucking tired like I’ve been all week long. I’m starting to think it’s just being in this state with the allergy attack going full throttle, and I don’t know what to fucking do about it….except sleep.
It’s all just extremely frustrating because while I can vomit a few paragraphs onto a blog post here or there (which has been pretty fucking sporadic lately), writing or editing my own work (books) is difficult to do at home, after work, or even on the weekends because I so very fucking tired (that typo proves it). I’m not even going to go into the arthritis in my hands and elsewhere as of late.
Something needs to change. I just don’t know what it is yet. Well, I might have an idea….