Sunday, October 19, 2014

The Dangerous Daycycle

 
The daycycle is what happens any day I can't just stay home and do things at my own pace in my own time and in accord with my own spoon level and level of sleep. 
 
I have to assess how well I slept and hope I'm rested enough to make the drive because the Spark can't drive me to work and be on time himself and still have both of us get enough rest.  We've tried.
 
I have to deal with the anxiety of traffic and will it slow me down enough to be late, or will I actually make it on time?   There's also breakfast to consider: can I make it at home?  Did I have enough spoons earlier in the week to prepare something easy to grab and go?  Do I have the spoons to make something if I didn't? If I don't, do I have the money and the time to pick it up on the way? 
 
Then there's the workday itself. I have to do the job, all while fighting the swarm. You remember the swarm.  The self-hate, self-destructive, and depressive thoughts that the depression whispers to me all day, along with the messages of worry and fear my anxiety whispers to me all day.  Some days the work is enough distraction that the swarm isn't even a buzz in my head. Some days, the Swarm is big and loud and it's a struggle to drown out work, let alone behave in that chipper and cheerful way women are expected to behave at work.
 
By lunch I need an introvert recharge, which means hoping there's a quiet space in the building, or spending extra spoons to walk to my car so I can eat in solitude (and if I'm lucky, get some sun) -- and back again.  There's also the concern of whether I have enough energy to keep up the act for the rest of the day. If I don't, will drinking more caffeine do the trick at the cost of me being able to sleep? It might, and it often does.  
 
Then there's stuff around the house: dishes, laundry, blogging, catching up on the news.  TV if I have the energy for it.
 
Then it's time for the meds and bed, and hopefully I will be able to sleep. If not, melatonin, which runs the risk of making me too groggy to get up in the morning.  Sleeping pills are worse. 
 
So if I don't seem tired: it's because I've got the public face turned on and turned up.  I assure you, I'm really tired, no matter how I look.