While I technically got up a whole ten minutes earlier than yesterday, I don’t find myself at the keyboard and a-typing any earlier. It felt like a herculean effort to drag myself out of the bed again, despite the earlier wakefulness of 05:00am.

It’s rainy and horrid outside and all I want to do is curl up and hibernate. The children are actually sleeping past the time I want them to start waking and have done for the past couple of days – a testament to how cold, gloomy and Wintry the mornings are, if nothing else is. 

So, I did spend a whole half-hour on self-pursuits yesterday. I’m not particularly satisfied with myself judging the day as a whole, especially when it comes to the “after dinner” time, but I have, I have indeed cracked the surface of this particular creme brulee, and I did indeed take some time to have a talk with myself and decide a plan of attack for the rest of the week, squeezing in the appropriate thirty minutes each day. (Actually, I didn’t really consider the weekends at all, but fine; that’s not my priority right now.)

I felt blue and down last night. I opened windows (computer ones, not physical ones) and contemplated doing various tasks in either the real or virtual world, but in the end did none of them. I suppose it makes me feel worse to give into it like that, to just lounge about and let the hours drift by me ’til I’ve no choice but to go to sleep. And sleep didn’t come particularly easily for me last night; restless legs tugging at sheets; feeling discomfort and vague nebulous panic; attempting to plot for the future instead of winding down. 

Every day I feel such disappointment in myself and in the life I’m living. And there’s no one to blame for it but myself. No no, I mean the minutiae of the life I’m living. My high-level, overview life is actually brilliant!

All the stuff I’m big-world worried about is going pretty smoothly:

  • House: Seems like An Bord Pleanala have received the letter of withdrawal and that should all be sorted within the coming week. One of the developers we were previously in contact with has even preemptively contacted us to let us know they’re interested in making a bid for it. But I still feel weird and a bit disappointed or worried, or … I don’t know! Nebulous anxiety and panic, basically.
  • Baby: I can feel her movements way more obviously now. And she’s big enough that there’s like an 88% chance of survival in the hugely unlikely event she would be born early. We probably are actually going to have this third child. But I’m still worried about birth and afterwards and that scary France trip in April.
  • Finances: Have literally never been better for us. And G.’s book is getting some really positive reviews. His editor even intimated she wants to talk about a third book (he was only contracted for two), which seems positive prior to the release of the first even. But … but what? I don’t know! I mean, even if this particular book didn’t work out, his profile would be raised it and it wouldn’t stop him writing another and shopping that around. I mean, already, getting this far has been a huge success. But if it flopped after all the great potential it seems to be showing, I think that would feel like a blow and a backward step. 
  • Work: I’m signed off sick still, but the guilt has faded as days (and nights) get difficult to manage in a way. Anyway, maternity leave starts from the end of this week and that’s when I’d always planned on leaving, so that should maybe make guilt feel less? And yet … worry about the classes I’ll go back to and how they’re being managed, worry about attending /not attending upcoming professional development stuff, worry about how I’m perceived by the students I pass by every day. 
  • Creativity: Okay, not great, but I’ve made first steps. It’s forward motion. But nothing’s enough for the Pointy Plague Doctor. Ever.

Why does everything sometimes feel ruined when nothing is ruined at all?

I feel like I have to constantly prepare for a falling sky that has such a low probability of occurring. My instinctive expected value calculations are way off where they should be in order to experience a contented life. 

Also, that big hole where my evenings should be. Judge, judge, panic and repeat. Can I break the cycle?