I went to South Africa for a couple of weeks at Christmas.
Was going to make a post here, but it’s too late now; I don’t really remember anything. I was beginning to think for a while that I was getting better, but apparently not.
I got an MRI a couple of weeks back. Found nothing; apparently my brain is “perfectly normal.” Ha. That’s good news, I suppose? But in a sense I would have rather they found something – then we could (figuratively) point to it and say, “That, right there! That’s what we need to fix!”
Instead, just more intangible murkiness. More why?s and no because!s.
And so, over the last year-and-however-long, my productivity has gone to complete shit. I can’t concentrate at all; I have trouble doing so many things; I certainly can’t do anything fast. I also can’t go on and on without sleep the same way I used to do. So not only is that closed as an avenue of mitigation, but I can’t even reliably use it as a method to just get a baseline amount of stuff done the way I used to.
(Which doesn’t stop me from trying, and it’s a pretty bad scene.)
To get anything done at all is requiring a neverending stream of compromises with my deep-seated perfectionism and I hate it. And even despite that, the number of unfinished projects that keep piling up and piling up...
It’s an issue at work (I should have been fired. I so should have been fired by now), but also everywhere else too.
If there’s anyone reading this that hasn’t yet been let down by my promising something and failing to follow through, well, you’re one of the lucky ones.
And this weekend, I just... melted down. Have been stuffing the last couple of weeks too damned full of things that I once could have gotten done in that time, but not any more. And as each one took longer and longer than I planned, and pushed all the rest back further and further, and I got less and less sleep...
Finally, Friday I ended up racing from one thing to another yet managed to make absolutely none of them, despite having already invested a fair pile of money and effort into some.
That was it. I was done.
I just want to tap out.
I am sick, tired and burnt out of... trying to be a functional human being. Or something.
Spent all day Saturday trying but failing at a bunch of other things, instead having intermittent crying jags and just generally being in no shape to see anyone.
In an attempt to make it to something, anything at all this weekend that didn’t end in abject failure, I still ran the Hypothermic Half Marathon earlier today (for which I had registered a while back).
I say “still” because in my ill-fated rush to make it to things on Friday, I was biking way too fast for conditions and wiped out on a patch of ice. Didn’t hit my head this time (ha) but smashed up my legs a bunch, leaving them bleeding, bruised and dented, and with loudly-complaining muscles.
I mean, it wasn’t that serious; I’ll be fine. But really, in no shape to go running this weekend. And I probably would have given it a pass, except for everything else that had already gone down, and I was determined that there would be one—just one—thing this weekend that I wasn’t going to screw up.
(Besides, running always makes me feel better, and I was in desperate need of a pick-me-up.)
So I ran. And somehow, despite my busted legs, I made it in under 2 hours... somewhere around 1:57-and-something.
Which was totally incredible. And mind. Numbingly. Stupid.
Because whatever my legs might have had left is gone now. I’m on Tylenol (context: I never take pain-killers. I had to stop to get some because I didn’t have any in the house) and still in a fair bit of pain. There’s no way I can walk, only sort of hobble around a bit.
But I guess I managed to get one thing done this weekend.
I hate February.