I'm finding myself conflicted, frustrated and exhausted more often these days than I generally prefer. But to be positive and knock the stresses off as they come:
I do have a bigger room which is far more suitable for ncmt and I to share without waking up in the night with a knife to the other's throat and finding a blade digging in the ribs. The Shawshack Shuffle resulted in the inevitable evaluation of how many books I have and how little shelving space I have to contain them, particularly with my little quirks and flashes of OCD. It has been managed. On my large white shelf, all the genre fiction and modern "literature;" the large black shelf holds all non-fiction, textbooks, pseudo-science and religious texts; the small white shelf has the distinctive honour of protecting all books published before my parents were born (some before my great-grandfather's birth), classical literature, poetry, plays, James Bond novels and science fiction magazines from the 50's-70's. We're really just hoping for the best when the rest of ncmt's possessions have to fit at the end of the month.
I will be finished working full time at the end of this month. Money has been saved to maintain my inanimate body during hibernation. Until then, I am holding my breath and barely containing my anticipation.
I have a surprising number of freelance jobs set up for the winter. I'm hoping to make enough to send me back to evening classes for the editing certificate. One of these jobs is for barter with a well established author and therapist who runs writing workshops that I now sit in on for free. Most of what has been covered so far are things that I know, but rarely think of during the process. It's surprising how quickly this group is pulling me out of my "I can't write shit" funk. Also: I am too young, by an average of twenty years, to properly relate to many of my fellow members. Makes for interesting discussions on dialogue.
I am sick of being sick. I will no longer be sick. The darkness settling over the city at 5pm will no longer send me into hiding beneath the sheets while I still have work to do, clothes to sort, friends to cuddle. Depression is not permitted. That goes for anxiety too, you sneaky bastard.
I will ease the fuck off ncmt. The current emotional tides being what they are can make it easy to be snappy and argue about inconsequential bullshit. I will release some of my insecurity and fear. It is helping no one and is straining patience all around.
I have some serious letter writing to do.
And now, I must go to work. I have to be there at 7:30, so I really have to run to work. I'm starting to pull my shit together, so I suppose I'll be around more often.
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