11 Hour Days

My Room
Oh Tasty Live Phish!
Glad to be Not Doing Anything
10:02 pm
Monday, April 18, 2005

11 Hour Days

Mondays can be hard. I usually wake-up feeling unrested, unprepared, angsty, achey, and generally put-out. I stummble through making coffee, practically slamming it down as quickly as possible, holding the mug to achor me to the day, to make the lists stay still, as I gather the energy to conquor the day.

I've found myself having to do that more and more lately: gather the willpower to live my life. To be able to beathe, retain sanity in this atmosphere of so little Me Time, I have to be an expert, supremo climber of Mount Organize Everything. Don't get me wrong -- I love my life, but damn those 11 hour days.

But it's not just Mondays. I've been drinking more coffee, but not because I enjoy the flavor, smell, and taste, which I do greatly. But to anchor myself to Life. As I don't have three minutes to my name, always something, SOMETHING to accomplish, something that doesn't get done, not enough sleep to keep me going, sanity slowly slipping, that coffee is the one solid, whole thing in the world. So I hang on for dear life. Cigarettes too.

This weekend was hard. Karl's birthday was Friday, and I wasn't really handling people well that day. I could feel the panic attack crawling around under my skin, distracting me. I was jittery, jumpy and generally strung out. I didn't go to class, because I absolutely had to get more then four hours of sleep for once -- I was shaking. I almost screamed walking across the quadl, and only to find myself losing my way in modern Marxist theory on social revolutions, drinking coffee with all my being twenty minutes later. I had to sing in public at the Benefit Concert for ACW. That was, nerve wracking to say the least, the very least.

But Today!

Today, I woke up early to finish some homework, and go make-up a French quiz, made interesting points from the readings and personal knowledge in Gesture, lauged in ASL, and understood the lecture in Social Movements. I went to work.

And it didn't take a super-human, gut-wrenching display of will, sheer will to make the whole day possible.

I understood French class. I meet Matt for lunch. I read outside, on the Quads in the 76 degree weather, I took a nap during the break at work and got paid for it. I saw Karl, and will see him again.

It feels good to be balanced again. I can't say I know exactly what did it, but I've staved off the Crazies for a bit longer. At least I know what's happeneing, at least I understand my mental state, at least I use the manic. Way to go me. I totally win.