I’ve been going through a bit of an introversion phase lately.
Everything that has been going on has exhausted me more than I expected, and while the idea was to have a few nights’ good sleep and be fine, that plan A didn’t work so well.
I found myself showing depression prodrome symptoms, I was seriously Godzilla with PMS. I may or may not have ruined my interview by being nervous. I’m never nervous.
So about a week ago, I called in sick. Murphy and me had a date again: OF COURSE I had night shifts. (Just like it started raining just as I walked out the supermarket on the day that no rain was predicted, and on the day that it WAS predicted I used public transport only for it not to rain. Never mind!). Night shifts would have been the final blow.
My normal emotional roller coaster resembles one of those wooden rides, the Cowboy Coaster type. (Normal people would be the teacups, me think, or the carousel) Now it was the Tower of Terror.
Boss was very understanding, and actually prohibited me to work.
And I focused on ‘recovering’. Doing pleasant things, getting A LOT of sleep. My intention was to exercise, but I was too exhausted to do much. I was shocked to find myself completely exhausted after going to church. I left my phone at my home, TDH went and picked it up for me. I did some creative things, actually bought a Moleskine A4 sized sketch book to take up drawing again, along with a set of pencils (HB, 2B, 4B and 8B). And gummi. I’ve made a few cards, I’ve been running out of those. Small practice-creativity.
SHOO, black dog, voertsek, I don’t want you here! Get the fuck out, mr Chartwell!
Slowly I seem to be recovering. I seem to have dodged the bullet.
Now I need to stabilise.
How screwed up is it that all of this is triggered by the noise of the ventilation system and the stress related to that?
And for anyone who has dealt with that ordeal: read this book!
Mr Chartwell link