spinning

Fridays through Mondays are my busiest and the most taxing days of the week. So after a whirlwind weekend, I had a minor catharsis late last night.

I worked my usual 14 hours Friday. I woke up at 6:30 on Saturday morning for a Sporting Clays shoot. I stopped home quick to walk the dog around 1:30 before going back to work at 2 o’clock. I got out of work at 6:30 and went to my cousin’s surprise birthday party. I got home around 9 o’clock and crawled into bed. Then Sunday I had to be at a volunteer art event at 11 o’clock in the morning. I was there until 6 pm.

Yesterday I did another 12 hours between the two jobs, and it was an incredibly tough day. I didn’t realize how tough it was until I got home and the stress and worry overwhelmed me. Since the company is closing, I am now filling in for customer service. So I dealt with a lot of angry calls during the day and then I worked until 10 at the bar. I was dead tired.

Then I had a minor breakdown about dating. There are a few guys sort of lingering in my mind because either a. I feel bad for not wanting to pursue something with them, or b. I know they are wrong for me, but they are entertaining nonetheless. It’s so frustrating to not connect with people. It’s frustrating to know the relationship isn’t going anywhere before it even starts too.

I realized yesterday, that I don’t have as much fun anymore. I think dating offers a sense of adventure and fun that I am craving, but I haven’t met anyone who fits the bill. My cousin reminded me about when we were drinking quite a lot two years ago. It was pure fun. We talked and danced and drank. We were joyful and relaxed. I don’t have those truly relaxed and carefree moments anymore.

I’m spinning. That’s what it feels like… spinning around in circles. I wake up a mess and rush to work. Then I get home and I walk the dog, eat, and go back to work. It seems like everyone is worried about me. I assure them that I’ll figure it out. Which is mostly to convince myself that I will do just that.

I told my cousin, “I’m not depressed. I think I would know if I was depressed. I’m just stressed. I’m tired.” I have been depressed before, and this is not the same.

I FEEL OLD.

I shouldn’t feel old. I’m 25, and I’m burnt out by the situation I am in at work and in my personal life. I know what would make me feel less old, developing a better fitness routine. I have been saying for months that I’m going to sit down and write a reasonable program for myself, but I keep forgetting.

I definitely could have exercised tonight. I did a lot tonight. Tuesdays are my most productive day it seems. I did the laundry. I washed the dishes. I scrubbed the stove-top, bathroom sink, and the counters. I picked up and organized some odds and ends that I still haven’t found proper homes for in the house. I organized and cleaned under the kitchen sink. I wrapped a Christmas present for Nora (a tractor and farm set I picked out at the shoot on Saturday). I put some clothes in a bag for the donation bin. I took out the garbage. I painted a second coat on the bathroom window casement.

Look at me doing things after having such a bad day yesterday. It’s like I turned around and took all my frustration in the things I can’t change and converted it to energy for the things I can change. I even cleaned up the storage space and the applications running on my laptop. I’m actually using it to write a blog post in bed — which is exactly the reason I bought it in the first place.

I think tomorrow I will be able to work on the bathroom window some more. I am definitely going to pick up and put down some heavy things. Gonna get back into pumping up for my health. I need to send my resume out too. I keep procrastinating because… well let’s be honest because I’m afraid to start over not knowing if I will find something I like half as much as the job I had. It’s scary. I loved what I was doing and would have loved to keep doing it. Now, I have to redefine myself.

how did i end up here?

A friend of the family said to me recently, “One of the greatest misdirections in life, is that being an adult will be easier.”

I hosted friends at my house for the first time since I actually finished the living room floor. When a friend of my friend unexpectedly needed a place to spend the night, she stopped at my house to hang out before going home to bed. Let’s call her, B. B is around my age and she is struggling at life.  She’s got good friends, a place to live, and a good heart, but otherwise she is lost. She was a little tipsy after a wedding and was very talkative.

First she wanted to look around my house – which was one hundred percent fine. I think it’s wrong if you don’t want to do that. Then, she started asking questions. She asked if my cousin and I were roommates. She asked about my rent. She asked how I decided to get a dog. She was basically asking how I adult.

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I responded, of course, that no my cousin does not live with me.  Charlie is my roommate.  Just me and him. In the house that I own. She could not process how I was living by myself with my dog in a house that I own. I sat there contemplating how much I should share with a stranger. I decided to tell her the truth without going into the intimate details, and I have been thinking about my answers ever since.

How did I end up here?

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