I'm in an introspective headspace lately, internets, so my bloggyposts will probably reflect that. But who knows—I might rebel soon (imagine that!) and boomerang back to inanity (face it—it's just a matter of time).
In my more worn out and reflective state of mind—and seriously, self, what is up with the having to get exhausted before you will tune in and pay attention to what's going on? Other than, ya know, the obvious distraction technique and other such nonsense—I've discovered yet one more counterproductive thing I do.* When get to feeling as I have been lately, instead of just acknowledging the mental or physical fatigue, honoring it, working through it, and such, I get a little embarrassed and angry.
What. the. HELL.
Nothing like kicking yourself when you're down, right? 'Cuz that's all helpful and stuff.
I don't know if it's my brain needing some kind of justification for the tired—which is a distinct possibility, given how I take after my perfectionist father (who also lays claim to a Protestant Work Ethic despite being a cradle Catholic)—or guilt of some kind (see previous comment re: being raised Catholic). Could be a little from column A and little from column B, I suppose.
Now that I'm pondering it (by way of vomiting words onto a pixelated page), it might be yet another way to distance myself from the actual emotion of a thing by intellectualizing it. (Those of you who know me IRL can quit smashing your respective foreheads into your desks and/or guffawing now, thanks.)
The disturbing part is that apparently I can't just accept being in such a state. There has to be a viable, justifiable reason... as if being drained or worn out or tired or any such thing doesn't just happen (except when it does). Why does the reason matter?
I guess because I need it to justify the number of things I'm not doing that I feel like I should be doing—and oh, there's that word: should—though I'm not quite sure how the rest of that works out since the shame and guilt only perpetuate the negative emotion and lengthen the recovery cycle.
The wiser thing, of course, would be to flow with the feelings until they are all felt out. Because with anything—good or bad—the only way through it is through it. There's no reasoning with feelings. They're like Alex Forrest and will not be ignored.
Once the mood (or state of being, if it's physical tiredness) passes—and it will pass, even if it doesn't always feel like it—then I can easily resume being my productive self, sans drama. It's not like I haven't seen this theory in action before. Once I feel rested in body, mind, and soul, I can shake a tail feather. But when I'm in a place like I am now, I slog through things and make myself miserable (chastizing myself through it all) only to get half the To Do List done in twice the time. It's not efficient. Certainly the wiser (i.e., less painful and drama laden) answer is to just get. some. damned. REST!
And if it's spiritual, then meditate. Clean house (mentally speaking). That whole bullshit line about not having time? Don't buy it, self. Remember that whole Opposite Day thing? It's kinda like that.If you gotta take a nap first, then do so. Quit judging (when has that ever made anything better?).
All those mental gyrations make your brain feel busy and important while ensuring nothing actually changes to make it uncomfortable (God forbid we should be uncomfortable). Stupid brain. It gets us all wrapped around the axle, buzzing with Activity... but all of that is pulling our hearts and minds away from meaningful, substantive change. Pay no attention to that Man behind the curtain!
I keep falling for it, too, even though I know it's just some dude from Kansas with a hot air balloon.
Here's hoping it's a GI Joe thing where knowing really is half the battle.
Remain vigilant, self.
And remember that bit about naps.
* Yeah, I know. My compound, run-onny sentences are pretty exhausting, but despite my BA in English (cum laude, thankyouverymuch) I want this to be a more personal space and less writey. Hence the making up of words and such. Plus, in one of those ice breaker activities with my co-workers—all of whom are between 6 and 24 hours' drive from me—my boss said, "I know which one is yours; you write just like you talk." So it's like those of you who don't know me get my virtual voice without all the shrill.
Also, how sad is it that I need to write such a post to give myself permission to feel worn out when I'm worn out? D'Oh!