I’ve been doing good the past couple of days. I know I was pissed on Wednesday, but work has begun to calm down. That or my boss is realizing that she brought me literally to my breaking point and is now kindly backing the fuck off.
I feel better though. Despite feeling punky or tired or a little hungry, I can tell that at my core I’m in a more emotionally stable place. Instead of panic that I won’t be able to handle one more thing, life is back to manageable.
I don’t feel entirely productive though. I’m already going into work today, looking for ways to bullshit my way through it without doing much work. I wrote a book. Oh, hey, surprise! Yeah, I’ve been writing a book and finally finished the first draft. I have no idea how to edit something that large. Nor have I put any effort into it. I should work on characters and fleshing them out because they aren’t very good.
I’m going to London (conveniently where my story is set) at the end of August. It will be a research trip more than anything. I want to take pictures of a ton of things so that I can rework the details of the story better.
But I’m good. I don’t know if I’m ever happy in the way that other people are happy. You know how it’s like people are either happy or sad, but I have anxiety and depression so at the same time I can be suicidal and pleased and ragingly pissed off. Emotions are blended and together and confusing. Whatever this is that I’m feeling though, it’s the good half of life.