Living
Wake-up time comes too soon these days. Lucy the cat or some other noise will wake me. Sometimes, Tim has fallen asleep on the couch, and the creak of the floorboards as he ascends the stairs at 4 am rouses me from my slumber. It takes all I have to go back to sleep, and oftentimes, it just doesn't happen. I lie there with my eyes open until I decide to tiptoe out of bed.
Usually, I quickly get dressed, put some dishes away and power up the computer. I find that those early morning minutes are great for writing, especially if I have my warm cup of coffee in hand. Of course, I've been pouring a bit more regular coffee into my decaf/regular concoction. I guess at least it isn't rum.
The early morning wake-up has been affecting my mood, though. Simply put, I am tired. By the end of the day, I am especially feeling the effects of the fatigue. I get crabby and irritable, and combined with the hormonal shifts that are now occuring (yes, I think I am officially perimenopausal), I don't much like who I am. I told Tim the other day that I need to be fixed. (And I don't mean that I need to be spayed, although that wouldn't be a bad idea. The OB informed me at my checkup that now is the time they see oopsie babies. As much as I like kids, I don't want to be one of those persons.) Something within me needs to be fixed.
The problem is, how to fix myself? I'm not sure, since I am not truly certain what is broken. Apart from taking some time away from everyone, which just isn't feasible, I have no good ideas. I guess I could try to minimize my stress level, but right now, that isn't going to happen either. I have a lot on my plate, and until the semester ends, I am stuck with it. But the stress gets to me on a daily basis. I can feel it in my hands that shake from time to time, my stomach that churns, and especially in the irritability that seems to compound with the number of events scheduled for the week. The casual observer wouldn't know it; even a good friend might not see it. I get to work on time, I do my job relatively well, and I manage to get everything done at home that needs to be done. Kids get to activities, dinner gets on the table, the house is relatively clean, and other odds and ends are mostly tied up. I guess you can say that I get it mostly done, but it (whatever it is) certainly wasn't enjoyable along the way.
And there lies the key to my fixing, I think. If I can figure out why life doesn't cause me as much joy anymore, then perhaps I can get at the heart of the matter. Is it hormonal changes? Is it SAD? Is it depression? It could be any and all of the above, and to be honest, that scares me.
Usually, I quickly get dressed, put some dishes away and power up the computer. I find that those early morning minutes are great for writing, especially if I have my warm cup of coffee in hand. Of course, I've been pouring a bit more regular coffee into my decaf/regular concoction. I guess at least it isn't rum.
The early morning wake-up has been affecting my mood, though. Simply put, I am tired. By the end of the day, I am especially feeling the effects of the fatigue. I get crabby and irritable, and combined with the hormonal shifts that are now occuring (yes, I think I am officially perimenopausal), I don't much like who I am. I told Tim the other day that I need to be fixed. (And I don't mean that I need to be spayed, although that wouldn't be a bad idea. The OB informed me at my checkup that now is the time they see oopsie babies. As much as I like kids, I don't want to be one of those persons.) Something within me needs to be fixed.
The problem is, how to fix myself? I'm not sure, since I am not truly certain what is broken. Apart from taking some time away from everyone, which just isn't feasible, I have no good ideas. I guess I could try to minimize my stress level, but right now, that isn't going to happen either. I have a lot on my plate, and until the semester ends, I am stuck with it. But the stress gets to me on a daily basis. I can feel it in my hands that shake from time to time, my stomach that churns, and especially in the irritability that seems to compound with the number of events scheduled for the week. The casual observer wouldn't know it; even a good friend might not see it. I get to work on time, I do my job relatively well, and I manage to get everything done at home that needs to be done. Kids get to activities, dinner gets on the table, the house is relatively clean, and other odds and ends are mostly tied up. I guess you can say that I get it mostly done, but it (whatever it is) certainly wasn't enjoyable along the way.
And there lies the key to my fixing, I think. If I can figure out why life doesn't cause me as much joy anymore, then perhaps I can get at the heart of the matter. Is it hormonal changes? Is it SAD? Is it depression? It could be any and all of the above, and to be honest, that scares me.
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