February 7, 2018•327 words
Tired today. Fatigued. I’ve just noticed it, but I’ve been in an adrenaline fueled frenzy the past few weeks. Going fast. Extremely productive, but tiring. On the first sign of light I immediately rise and resume my robotic trance, and perform the morning ceremonials while anxiously observing the availability of the next bus. I’ll always over or under shoot, so there’s always either lengthy waiting or needless rushing—never in between. The snow is wet and heavy, and each lifting of my boot anchored leg requires exorbitant amounts of energy, in relative terms.
I'll spend the next half hour catching my breath and a little of the book I'm reading. After several busy stops, the bus dumps me back onto the icy road, where I'll trudge and drudge my way to the could-be-a-little-closer building. I reach for the first door my hand can reach and pull back the handle with an almost detaching force, hurtling my way inside to escape the cold and catch my breath. I then ascend (ok, am ascended) to the office, and proceed to stand laptop-facing for the next five hours (sitting = pain) under a caffeine induced marathon of crossing off todos. After I begin encountering heavy signs of physical and mental resistance, I pack it up and repeat the whole trip but in reverse, walking then running to the stop, waiting in the nipping cold, loading, unloading, running, ascending, unlocking. By the time I get inside I just fall.
Today I decided I would not time it. I'll walk comfortably to the bus stop at my own pace. If it's there, it's there, if it's not, I'll wait. It was serene.
There are no negative emotions bubbling up, so that's good. Just physical fatigue. I told myself to stay home today, but I couldn’t risk destroying the momentum of a useful routine. What if I’m just being lazy?
Today confirmed it wasn’t mental. My body needs rest. I should stay home tomorrow.