I don't know what time it is. Without looking at the clock I could tell you that it's sometime after 1 am. Probably closer to 1:30. For the second night in a row, I'm wide awake. I'm exhausted, but sleep is being an elusive bastard these days. I've spent the last two evenings frosting and decorating my signature sugar cookies. I'd post pictures but I can't find my camera cable. They're the best-looking ones I've ever done in all my years. Admittedly, the tip I found on Pinterest about using a condiment-type bottle was incredibly useful. I don't have my final cookie count yet but I've done upward of 60 cookies so far, easy. I've done four or five different colors of icing. It's incredibly time consuming but it's the only thing that's soothing right now, because my stress levels are off the charts in a way that they haven't been for quite a while. Night-time is the worst, too. It's when all the insecurities and demons like to come out to play.
It's not the holidays. I mean, it's kind of the holidays. I feel like I'm not "done" with anything and so I'm scrambling to fill in whatever festivity gap there might be. There are additional demands on my time, sure. And the people, lordy, there are people everywhere. I made the mistake of going to Target to pick up some routine items on Saturday. I almost vowed to not come out of my apartment again until December 26. Actually, no. Too many people trying to return unwanted gifts. Maybe by mid-January.
It might be work. I've lost count of how many Big Projects are in motion right now, and most of them have overlapping deadlines. None of them can be pushed. So I'm working feverishly to make sure all ends are tied and everything is moving forward, but I'm up against a wall because there's no room to push back against anything. Which equates to there being no room to breathe. I can't quite describe the way it's causing my nerves to frazzle and I can't even find a good metaphor. I'm running a marathon at a sprint pace while juggling flaming batons. It's kind of like that.
I was hoping to get a lot of stuff around my apartment done while the BF is away and while I theoretically have all this time to myself. None of it has gotten done. Not only has it not gotten done, but I've been slipping with my regular routine. I haven't been able to work out as regularly and I've been eating like shit and I can feel myself getting fat and I cringe whenever I catch a glimpse of myself in my mini-Skype box. Especially my hands. I have chubby hands.
It seems far too early for S.A.D. to be kicking in, and I've been doing really well the last couple winters. Maybe it was because we've had such mild winters. I don't know. Maybe it's that. Or maybe I'm just overdue for a meltdown.
This all feels incredibly self-centered given everything that's going on in the rest of the world but I can't really handle yet another night of wanting to break down and cry for no other reason than that things are hard right now. And I can't figure out why they're hard, because they shouldn't be. Nothing is different, I'm just handling it poorly. And I feel like I'm failing at having my shit together which makes me feel like I'm failing as an adult, and if I can't manage to do that, then what's the point?
I don't know. I'm tired. That's what I know.