Christmas is a funny time of year for me. The winter is a hodgepodge of anniversaries of suicide attempts, hospitalizations, and hopelessness. I spent last Christmas wandering around the mansion I was housesitting while doing vodka shots and the Christmas before that depressed on OkCupid talking to a man whose opening line was, “Small penis?” (I have screenshots, by the by).
This Christmas I was too busy to notice it was coming and then too overwhelmed to do anything about it. My days turned into endless to do lists that once something was crossed off, three more items took its place. I was warned about committing myself to too many projects and my bipolar brain was quick to assure me that not only could I handle everything, I had to handle everything.
Last night I went to sleep about two hours past when I needed to (which might not sound like a big deal, but sleep hygiene is incredibly important to me) and my brain kept telling me I needed to get up and keep working. I was in the middle of a social media campaign for the non-profit I volunteer for, I have multiple WordPress websites I’m working on, I’m trying to learn graphic design, and going through this list is just making me even more panicky.
The sad thing is I kept telling myself I would rest over the three-day Christmas break. Then I packed all three days with events and left absolutely no time to rest at all. I am currently forgetting things at a staggering rate, simple addition is entirely too complicated, and it has taken me three hours to write this blog.
Even knowing all this, I still don’t want to stop working. I feel like if I stop I’ll lose time and then I’ll never be able to catch up. Also, I like working. I enjoy customizing WordPress sites and learning about graphic design and working with images. It just seems that, at this point, my willingness to do so has exceeded my cognitive functions.
So yes. Merry frelling Christmas.