Okay…I’m going to hopefully keep it relatively short today. That should, in principle, be easier than writing a long post, but in practice, for me, it can be a challenge. We shall see, I suppose.
When I first woke up today, I thought it was September 20th though I’m not at all sure why. It’s not, though; it’s the 16th. That’s just in case you weren’t sure, also.
I’m very tired and feeling pretty poorly this morning, but I have to go to work, and I’m going to have to go to work tomorrow, too, unless I’m very mistaken. I don’t quite understand how it is that people at the office don’t realize how worn down I am. I feel as if I’m dropping bits of flesh as I walk, like a cheesy, movie zombie, but apparently I don’t look much different than usual, based on the way everyone acts.
It’s probably my fault. I tend just to keep going, day after day, without much personal complaint. I mean, I complain about the way people in office do things, when they cut corners, or don’t follow the general, promulgated guidelines and whatnot, but I don’t often complain about myself. I do complain a bit, like about the fact that I feel tired, that I don’t want to have to stay late and everything, because I’m always the last one out no matter what, but maybe people just see that as the way I am.
Again, as I’m sure I’ve run the topic into the ground already, I apparently have the trait of alexithymia, a difficulty recognizing, or being able to characterize, one’s own emotions. I’m not sure how I feel about that*. Anyway, I guess I have a pretty deadpan face no matter what, and even when I say that I don’t feel very well, or don’t feel great, people just sort of “Oh, that’s too bad” kind of thing, and then everyone just goes about their business. I think I need to work on being more melodramatic.
Maybe it’s just that I’m always negative. Anything’s possible in this world. I don’t tend to be the world’s biggest optimist. I know, that’s unbelievable, right? I’m also never sarcastic.
Anyway, there’s just not much more to say about it. I’m much more tired than usual, but I’m going to have to work tomorrow anyway, unless I’m very surprised, and then after having Sunday off to do my laundry, I’ll have to work Monday. Hopefully whatever I have right now will turn into pneumonia and kill me soon, or something like that. It would not be a tragedy. It’s not like I’m likely to do anything more that’s useful with my life.
I wish I could just make myself lie down on the floor in the office at every full stop, but my tendency toward insomnia makes it difficult for me even to rest during the day when I’m worn out. Or maybe that’s unrelated to my nocturnal insomnia. I don’t know. It’s difficult to tease these things out, and it’s not like I have anyone else helping me with it. You people (the ones reading) are the main ones I share things with, but it’s not quite the same as having someone around who sees me from moment to moment or even from day to day.
Last night I had a hard time falling asleep, but I did sleep through to my alarm this morning after I finally dropped off. I haven’t heard my alarm in weeks, so that was kind of surprising**. I took half a Benadryl last night when I went to bed, because I really wanted to be able to sleep. It seems to have worked as far as that goes, but I feel a bit groggy now, and still just physically wiped out.
Mentally, it’s hard to tell. I feel like I’m not very alert or clear-headed, but I seem able to do my normal things in the morning so far. Meaning, for instance, when I check my keys and wallet and all the stuff that I have in my pockets, and which I check again every time I move from one spot to another to make sure I still have everything, they’re all there, and—obviously—I’m remembering to check them. Which is better than forgetting, certainly, though it would be nice, upon occasion, to be able to feel confident that, yes, I did remember them, and to remember that I remembered them, so I don’t have to keep checking over and over and over throughout the day until the moment I go to bed at night, or at least until I get dressed for bed. But I always have to keep checking myself; I don’t seem to have that sense of personal certainty that so many people give the impression that they have.
Then again, most people seem to feel sure about a great many things that they cannot actually be sure about, and if I had to choose between the two states, I’d rather be the way I am, with no tendency toward easy certainty about epistemologically uncertain things. I don’t admire overconfidence or dogmatism. I think they are responsible for a great many of the ills of civilization—people who think they know how things ought to be and how other people ought to behave and what’s really behind everything. This is my repeated point in reframing the X-files poster statement into, “I don’t want to believe. I want to be convinced by evidence and reason.”
Ah, well. Reason is something I have in abundance about some things, but in which I am very poor regarding how best to manage myself, emotionally and in general. I’m too tired to bother trying to manage myself, anyway. I’m not worth very much effort, even from myself. I need just to let it go.
And, as you can see, I didn’t end up writing a very short blog post after all. I feel as though a therapist is now telling me “That’s all the time we have today,” as has happened to me before in therapy. I have the unfortunate tendency to drone on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on…
You get the idea, right? Anyway, I expect, assuming I’m right that I’m going to have to work tomorrow, that I’ll be writing a post then. If I don’t, either it means that work was cancelled, at least for me—maybe my coworker will return from his back surgery with miraculous rapidity—or that I’ve succumbed to severe enough illness that I won’t be able to make it in or to write, or that I’ve died. That sounds kind of nice.
**It’s the Beatles song Good Morning, Good Morning, which is a perfect morning alarm. It even begins with a rooster crowing!