Bleah. That’s generally how I’m feeling today, with no real excuse. I got a (relatively speaking) decent sleep last night, Cameron’s been a well-behaved wonderful little sweet boy, and Dad and Janice are making my life hassle-free and wonderfully easy. I’m not PMSing.
I’ve gained weight. My tummy has ripples and bumps, but not the six pack kind. My rear, in my estimation, is the size of a small country. My posture is awful. My endurance is zero. My face is breaking out. My skin is flakey and dry. And I had a discussion today with a total stranger that left me feeling really icky, not liking myself very much, swearing away from a topic entirely, and it was entirely my own fault because I said something I really shouldn’t have. BLEAH.
I know that some of this is because I am in survival mode, on an emotional, physical, and metabolic level. I’m NOT eating enough to explain a weight gain, not really, but when you take into account that I’m not sleeping right or exercising right and my work is go-go-go … well, it’s only natural that my body is going to gear up into survival mode. Conserve calories and store’em, it’s saying. And stress isn’t helping my skin.
Also I know very well that I have complete and total control over all these problems. Really, I do. I could get to sleep way earlier than I do. I could drink more water. I could go to the gym more than once a week. I could re-install the filter that should be between my brain and my mouth. But it all takes energy – going to the gym, thinking before I open my mouth, remembering to do general self-care stuff (I’m not talking basic hygiene by the way folks, that I can and do take care of).
All except sleep, that is. I stay up because it’s my me-time. It’s my writing time. It’s my do-nothing-and-flake-out time. I tell myself that I need it desperately, and I do. But sleep I need more desperately. So I need to not fuss quite so much over what to write. Maybe take a night off writing, deliberately, a week. And not read half the internet. I keep coming back to this, I know, like a broken record.
So my plan for tonight (it’s quarter to ten) is to wash dishes, pump up Dad and Janice’s bed so it’s ready for them, have a snack, wash my face, brush my teeth, and go to bed. There’s NO excuse for me to be up past 11.