Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing
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Saturday, Oct. 02, 2004 - 5:59 a.m.
WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.
Stressful insomniacs beat themselves up
What is wrong with me.
Sort of panic attacks. Stress to the supreme insomnia.
It happened today (Friday) around noon, when I had had about five hours sleep. I woke up, and then started stressing about not having figured out for Dad what jobs to do, what things needed, which to start first which days. Thought "go back to sleep, you can think about it when you wake up later". But I kept fighting... rolling over, trying to doze, time sliding by, trying to figure out time scales for work in the yard, upstairs, lists in my head in my sleep, stressing.
Finally got up and realized my Dad is still on West Coast time, and still sleeping. Somehow that made me stress less (I had thought he was up and I was sleeping, so I was wasting time)... got back to sleep. But then didn't get much done during the day.
All seemed to be wasting time. Only changed the parts in a leaking faucet. Didn't draw my comics at the coffeeshop since Dad was with. Looking at start of one job, doggy wasn't walked yet, looking at plumbing job, walking with doggy to get plumbing parts, back to try the piece, walk with doggy again to the plumbing place, back to put in the piece, to the coffeeshop (which is normally work space for me, but ended up being waste of time sit and read the paper space), Dad wanted to stop to buy food.
More time wasting, got home just in time to leave again to meet l'Ecrivaine and her wife for supper and give back the bike key for her wife's bike I'd used last weekend. Eat out. Get home. Time to walk the dog again. Pick up the video of "Supersize Me", make the guac, watch the movie.
Tired, go to bed "early" after writing my last entry. What did I get done, nothing. Walking back and forth, never time to actually work on anything. Nothing properly planned.
Lots of talk, but when will we get work done. Supposed to rain on Saturday, so he was saying "shouldve worked outside today". Nice day on Sunday, but I have gotten the car to go for a drive in the countryside on Sunday. Wanted to go to old Montreal on Saturday, and to see a photo exhibition of World Photo Journalists of the year, but if we do that, no work will be done again.
Tomorrow night is a performance with dance afterwards... women's night out. But if I do that after hanging with Dad doing touristy stuff during the day, no work will be done again.
People visiting are incompatible with me getting anything done. Doing touristy stuff is incompatible with getting renovation stuff done.
I realize that my schedule works cuz I work at night on quiet alone stuff normally. I CAN shop at 2pm, meet someone for supper at 5pm, watch a movie at 8pm with someone cuz I can work after. But if we do that stuff, he cannot work on plumbing and fixing with a hammer and painting. It is dark. It is late. Mustn't make noise. Stores are closed. Etc etc.
I am stressing.
I went to bed before 4am. Thought I'd get up around 11am. The daylight doing things hours will be longer. I woke up at 5am. Tossing and turning. Stressing like I cannot remember stressing for years. Things to do, panic in chest. tossing and turning turning and tossing. Trying to figure out the "unfigureoutable". When i tried to figure out days to do things, Dad says "I am on vacation, no rush". When I plan fun things, he says "got nothing done today, one day down, only 9 to go, should've worked outside it was nice". AACK.
stressing. Now i am trying to do my comics page. When i went to bed at 4am, I thought "tomorrow while he works I will sit in the coffeeshop quietly and do two pages". But I don't know when. Must look at jobs to do with him. Want to go to a comic book launch. Want to see the photo show cuz it ends Sunday. Want to go out dancing. The vacuuming needs to be done. There are cobwebs everywhere. I have contracts to do i am letting slide. My email inbox is too full. There are piles of papers on the floor. I start stressing about money. I start to worry about the mess in the basement of sawdust and cat litter, dead pumpkin and old wood pieces.
I feel like my life is unravelling. And I am trying to sleep. And I am more tired than I want to be and more awake than ever before.
So I am up writing an entry and dialogue between cartoon characters. Will I feel then less like my life is unravelling? I don't know. But at least that will be done.
But again it is 6:15 am. If I get up at 11am like I wanted, I will have not enough sleep. If I sleep enough the day will be gone. And I will waste all this time with Dad and other things.
God sometimes I wish I had a real job. Then I'd "GO TO WORK" and I'd "BE OFF AT 5", and I wouldn't need to have self discipline, or try to judge which is more important, discussing plumbing parts or reading a text for a book, measuring fence posts or drawing comics pages. It is hard to work at home, and have someone here to fix things for me.
And it is fucking up my days and fucking up my nights. And I really wish I had a deadline to give me some boundary edges. "must do six hours work tonight to finish this, will watch movie afterwards".
I just want to sleep. Calm. Tired. Awake refreshed.
Things like how I feel now make me hate myself.
I really really hate that.
goodnight.
wenchie.
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previous meanderings - future past
Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009
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