Aug. 2nd, 2022 10:01 am
The agony of defeat
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muckefuckBenty's advice to me yesterday, when I texted him from the depths of a morning funk, was "Focus on work. Formulate a plan of attack for you home goals." Which is excellent advice, as far as it goes. Unfortunately, the anxiety at being left hanging is taking a real physical toll. The last decent night's sleep I had was Friday night. Despite this, I was able to rally yesterday and remain pretty alert at work, only really fading during the last hour.
Today, not so much. I didn't even finish my morning tea. My eyes kept shutting as I drank it and I thought to myself that if I thought there were any chance that I'd actually be able to go back to sleep, it would be worth calling off the morning and staying home. But if I couldn't sleep from about 3 a.m. on, what reason was there to believe I'd be able to sleep at 10 a.m.? I forgot that I'd washed my hair the day before and washed it again. I forgot to take my pills with me. I took a stupidly long time to decide what shirt to wear. And we're not even going to talk about the effects on my bowels.
What's most annoying is how disproportionate this physical reaction feels to the actual level of disappointment. Nu, so you met a guy and it didn't work out. That literally happens every day. But I have to remind myself that every defeat summons echoes of the ones before. That's how my brain moves so seamlessly from "This seemed promising but didn't pan out" to "You will be alone forever". Every new opportunity is freighted with way more baggage than it can be expected to bear.
Today, not so much. I didn't even finish my morning tea. My eyes kept shutting as I drank it and I thought to myself that if I thought there were any chance that I'd actually be able to go back to sleep, it would be worth calling off the morning and staying home. But if I couldn't sleep from about 3 a.m. on, what reason was there to believe I'd be able to sleep at 10 a.m.? I forgot that I'd washed my hair the day before and washed it again. I forgot to take my pills with me. I took a stupidly long time to decide what shirt to wear. And we're not even going to talk about the effects on my bowels.
What's most annoying is how disproportionate this physical reaction feels to the actual level of disappointment. Nu, so you met a guy and it didn't work out. That literally happens every day. But I have to remind myself that every defeat summons echoes of the ones before. That's how my brain moves so seamlessly from "This seemed promising but didn't pan out" to "You will be alone forever". Every new opportunity is freighted with way more baggage than it can be expected to bear.
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