Lack of sleep doesn't help. It makes me more anxious, more certain that I've done something wrong, that I'm not good enough, that there is something inherently wrong with me. It makes me reconsider every possible dark scenario, reinterpret every conversation, relive every mistake. It at times makes me want to lash out, cry, or scream until I can somehow flush out the dark pit of emotions that's turning over and over on itself in my stomach, making pointless knots out of other pointless knots. Or it makes me want to curl up in bed and cry myself to sleep.
It could go either way. But given my current state of exhaustion, the latter might be the best option.
Honestly, I don't often feel this way anymore, so I haven't built up many coping mechanisms to deal with it when I do. And when I used to feel this way, I would drink. Or write confessional poetry. And that wasn't exactly the best idea ever (the drinking or the poetry, for that matter). So instead, I now feel a strange mix of adrift and sad and frustrated and am not sure what to do with any of it.
I guess that my new coping mechanism is writing about it in a distinctly non-confessional-poetry way. But I don't particularly feel like dwelling anymore on how I feel. I'm too tired, too entrenched in the sadness right now, whether it's even remotely justified or not. On the other hand, it's all that's on my mind right now.
So. I appear to be at an impasse. Gandalf is standing in the middle of the road, authoritatively slamming down his staff. Can't go that way. Can't go back.
Quite frankly, I miss last week, when I blogged about how on top of things I felt. (Hell, I miss yesterday, when I only felt slightly neurotic and restless.) Today is pretty much the opposite. And I know that's life, and I know that's just the natural ebb and flow of days and emotions and various stupid bullshit. I know that. It doesn't make it suck any less.
I definitely think blogging makes me a little more aware of my mental and emotional states than previously, even if it makes me feel a little manic sometimes when comparing one week to the next. It at least gives me a weekly check-in on what's been going on in my life, for good or ill. The last time I had similar anxiety compounded with sleep-deprivation was a little over a year ago, so that's not too terrible.
Moreover, it makes me at least attempt to confront my overwrought emotions and figure out what the hell is going on and what I can or can't do about it. Because if I just say that today was shitty, that's not a very interesting blog.
So. Today isn't a good day. So what? The world hasn't stopped because I feel bad, or because I barely slept, or because I might start crying if you look at me the wrong way. It just continues on, like every other day.
What can I do about it? Besides getting over myself? Not much. Get some sleep. Communicate better. Post this stupid blog about my stupid feelings, even though I'd rather not admit how emotional I can be. Ask people to send me pictures of cute dogs. Look at pictures of cute dogs. Knit. Read. The usual things that settle my mind and emotions.
Oh yeah, and try again tomorrow.
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