How, despite doing an active job, running every night, leaving home for work at 6am and not getting in before 7pm, cooking, eating, washing up, blogging, sending an e-mail, unloading the washing machine, and loads of supplementary bits (watering the greenhouse, counting cucumbers…), do I find myself at 10 to bloody 4, looking at my clock, eyes watering they sting so much with tiredness, but in contradiction, so awake I get up so as to stop the panic i’m feeling about being shit at my job making me depressed before the day even starts. Surely I should at least be able to sleep like a log for the 6 hours I find myself in bed for?
So, after a (long, so long) day, the run was a relief. 4 miles along the seafront contemplating my ability to fail at something i’d so like to succeed at it hurts was paradoxically relaxing to close out the day. One of those things that is completely out of my hands provided a thought-track that absorbed all the pain in my shins. Which, by the way, is quite blinding at the moment. The knowledge that, no matter what belief I have in myself, no matter what abilities and talents i’ve developed over my life, no matter how much energy, passion or will I put into something can change an outcome, completely filled my thoughts for half an hour. It was quite nice, in a way, but now I am left pondering again how things could be better given a chance.
I’d like to throw away the promise i’ve made to myself when the counting cars rule equates to zero. That will be a sea change in life I don’t know whether to look forward to or fear, but I guess it’s in my destiny. Shame one so unsuperstitious believes in destiny, I guess, but that’s me. And whatever lies in wait will be clearer in 352 cars’ time.
Happy Juneathon. I’ll be better tomorrow and my ramblings might become a reflection of me again. I don’t think i’ve lost it yet, but sometimes I wonder.