So tired of being tired
It’s sunday evening as I write this, which means the next workweek is about to start in about twelve hours. That also means I’ve already been stressing about the next workweek starting for another 12 hours! I start 24 hours in advance just to make sure I’ve gone over every improbable scenario of impending doom at least a few dozen times. You don’t want to miss any, obviously.
Table Of Content
That means that my weekend starts after work on friday, as it does for most. I’m relaxed and happy and I’ll enjoy my day usually. Saturday is pretty chill too and ususally consists of recovering some energy from the tiring workweek full of social interaction. I’ll sleep in a little, stay inside a lot or I’ll make some plans. Then the weekend is pretty much over because sundays are pretty much ruined by the dark shadow of work hanging over them. It makes me gloomy and very uneasy for the entire day. It makes me feel like I have to do all the plans I made pre-weekend when I was still optimistic and that I postponed on saturday in this last day. This pressure is too much for my fragile brain so it usually ends up with me avoiding everything and just wasting my last day in an anxious haze.
Why
The stupid thing is I don’t even know why this happens. In the beginning when I just started my job, it was pretty much expected. But I’m there for almost eighteen months now and I’ve gotten pretty comfortable. The stress I feel on sunday is worse than the actual stress of being on the job the next day. It makes little sense but it’s something I have little control over, seemingly.
Too much life
There are times where I feel life in general is just too much for me, even if I’d have the most perfect life imaginable. Because no matter how good I do and no matter how much I progress, the mental fatigue just doesn’t seem to go away.
I think my baseline use of mental energy is just very very high. My thoughts run at such a ridiculous pace, always going full speed about everything and anything, that I get tired even from simple days. Because maybe I’m not as stressed as I was when I first started, there is still this baseline of mental stress just from being around others at work. I still worry about how I stand, how I talk, how I breathe, how I smell, how I look, how I… I could literally go on for another fifteen minutes.
Quieting this voice, something we talked about earlier, might help a lot. I still don’t really know how to do that, unfortunately. I wanted to do more research on it this weekend, but well, yeah, that didn’t happen.
Expectations
The question I ask myself a lot lately is: How do I manage my expectations with this thing holding me back? Can I still expect to accomplish the same things as other people? Or will I always be held back by my mind and my endless fatigue?
If so, that is something I am not yet willing to accept, I think. I’m still in the fighting phase. Or maybe it’s the denial phase if we’re still talking grief… Either way I am not ready to just lay down and accept that I’m that different yet. I still have that spark of hope. A spark of hope that I might learn to regain some control over my thoughts and actions to a point where I can properly manage myself in terms of energy.
Out of control
Because honestly, I feel out of control most days. Like I’m not the one with the controller that actually runs this body and mind. I’m more the observer along for the ride, watching as some other force runs me into the ground with bad decisions over and over. I honestly don’t want to eat that fifth candy bar, but somehow I unwrap it and stuff it in my face like some kind of addict.
Look, I’m an adult and I’ll take my full responsibility. I don’t actually believe there’s an evil little Disney demon sitting in my head or anything like that. I just feel very disjointed from my thoughts and actions at times. Like my body and mind just do their own thing, feeding their sick addictions to sugar and negativity and self-criticism while I, the actual me that wants more from this life, observes them with disdain.
But I’ve taken the power away from that version of me and have given it over to the negative, addicted little (metaphorical!) Disney demon. It’s run the show for so many years and it doesn’t want to give it away because it’s all it has. If I get happy, there’s a big demotion waiting for it.
The daily fight
The result is that every day is either a win for the demon or a tiring fight with it. There’s really no in between. It doesn’t give up easily and it will be back tomorrow even if you manage to beat it up. All you can do is hope that it’ll lose some of its strength.
And to end on a positive note: I do notice that this thing, whatever it may be, is actually losing some strength. You can’t win every battle, but I think I am slowly turning the tide of the war in my favor. I just kind of struggle to see it or even write it down in this sunday blues I’m in right now. And even that is okay. It’s all part of life. No ups without the downs… Breathe in, breathe out, it’ll be okay. Go to bed, wake up tomorrow and just keep on fighting the good fight until you either win or die. What else are you gonna do?
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