Last night at work, weariness took hold by the end. I was going through the motions, but my ability to care about anything was gone. I had someone piss and whine about something unintentional and inconsequential and I turned off. Fortunately, the night was nearly ended, so I didn’t have to do exhausted robot for too long. I stayed for the paperwork, entering someone’s incomplete (no phone number is XXX-XXX-XX, wtf?) and illegible information in the computer. I still feel the pulse of mild hysteria in my chest when I repeat the phrase that came out of my mouth, “What the hell letter is this even? A balloon?” It was, and still is, so funny-horrible-pathetic that I could almost cry and laugh at the same time, still.
I’m tired. I’m so goddamn tired. It’s the sort of tired that can’t really be cured by sleep. I took a week of vacation, but, as usual, I didn’t schedule it soon enough. That last week before vacation time is always the worst. Five days of work until at least 8 days off. In a row.
Starting vacation today, however, would have been better. I crashed today. I didn’t leave the house. I barely left the bedroom. I didn’t leave my pajamas. I slept until noon, which helped, but I couldn’t bear to make myself do the sorts of things that presented me to the world. I didn’t shower; I didn’t dress. I didn’t even order food in because dealing with a delivery person was more than I could stand, as if their momentary presence, just another person’s physical existence, would utterly destroy me.
How’s that for melodramatic?
And so I apologize to anyone who might have expected me to do something remotely sociable today, because that just could not happen. I couldn’t call my mother, even though I told her I would check up on her and since she had surgery less than two weeks ago, that would have been daughterly. I couldn’t bear to lie or tell the truth. I couldn’t call my best friend, even though I don’t see her nearly often enough and it was her birthday yesterday and I feel shitty about only making a wall post on Facebook about it. I couldn’t answer the door when my old neighbor J stopped by, probably driving 30 miles from where he moved to, though probably not just to see me, but he did stop by and I crept to the door, peered through the peephole, and crept back to bed. He may have heard and know I ignored him, or maybe not, and I feel bad either way since he knows my car and knows I was home. Hopefully he thought I was sleeping or something. My curtain wasn’t open, so I generally figure that is enough of a not-receiving-callers sort of sign, but he never once held to that unspoken rule. But I couldn’t face him long enough to actually say anything.
So on top of all the shit, I feel guilty, too. Because I needed to be alone, vastly alone, and I feel like that disappoints everyone. Not that anyone I need to apologize to reads my blog, but I suppose that’s just as well.
I disappoint myself, too, because I don’t know if I have enough gas in the car to get to work tomorrow, I have no food in the house and I had pancakes without syrup for lunch and tater tots for dinner because I haven’t been grocery shopping in ages and the lettuce is brown and the bread is probably green, the milk is expired and the eggs are gone. So there are several things I ought to have done today that I didn’t do, but I wallowed instead.
I wallowed and I feel like I did in high school and the summers between college semesters. I crafted until I hurt last night before bed. Today I laid around on the computer and read Sherlock fan fiction the entire day. The. Entire. Day. It made me miss the online friends I had back in college, the ones who would let me whine to them the entire night through. It probably wasn’t helpful, but I felt like I was in some sort of pathetic little community. I could be social without being social.
Clearly, I make it really hard for someone to be my friend. I understand that. I feel like I’m getting more and more difficult, and I’m making less and less of the required effort. And maybe I’ll feel different after a good night’s sleep, or a vacation week away from work. Won’t really take me away from stress, because I bring that upon myself, true, but at least maybe being less sore and tired will help.
For anyone still reading, I’m sorry. I had to write this, but I didn’t have to post this 🙂 Maybe getting it out of my head will get it out of my life, if only temporarily. The day went so quickly. It is already midnight and I feel as if it should be merely four in the afternoon, about time for a shower and supper and a partial day where I can actually function. However, there is no partial to the day left, and while I feel somewhat better (or not, the balloon hysteria still wells up a bit when I think of it), it is merely time to think of heading to bed to start another day.