So here I am again. Frustrated. Grasping at straws, trying to blame my problems on anyone but myself.
My boyfriend echoed my mother tonight when he told me I needed to get adequate sleep. Literally by end of the conversation he was seriously suggesting that my stress at work was made worse by my lack of rest. I’m not even going to get into the other problems we discussed.
I’m sure my mother will find it difficult to not comment on this post herself that yes I should get more sleep.
It’s frustrating, but I guess I have to admit they are correct. I am probably shortening my life through all the bad things I do: sleep too little, then too much on off days, drink too much, smoke at all, and don’t eat enough vegetables or fruits.
And I think I will fix it. Gradually.
I will eventually start my savings account. I swear.
I will clean up the apartment. Tomorrow.
I will get healthy food and prep my lunches. Starting next week.
I will get 8 hours of sleep. Right after this trip is over.
My boyfriend asked me to start during the trip though. To get 8 hours of sleep at a minimum every night. I said okay… grudgingly. Reluctantly. Kicking and screaming in my head.
It’s weird but I find my bad habits comforting. Addicting. I want to stay with them. I want to curl up with the lack of sleep and stress and caffeine and alcohol and tobacco and just relax for a moment. Even though I know all they promise are headaches in the future.
And actually it’s not weird. It’s totally normal. It’s just weird to write it out like that.
I’ve been terrible at making progress in anything for almost a year. I’ve been tired of keeping track of anything for any decent length of time.
I want to avoid it all. I want to not have to be sick to my stomach thinking about the set-backs, the two steps back and one step forward days that become weeks that become months that stretch into the years of my life that I feel are on track to me being old and unhealthy wondering where the time and my youth have gone. But I want paradoxical things.
So… okay, tomorrow night – because tonight is gone. Sleeping 8 hours at a minimum. Let’s see how long I can do it… I’m sad imagining my inevitable failure.
I’m not trying to fail.
I’m trying to succeed. I’m trying to better myself. I’m trying to pay my dues.
So the picture, so you know dear reader: represents being born again as an adult. Every time we set out to do something to change something about our own lives we are born again. We start over, except with previous knowledge and the same aging body. As soon as we are born we start dying. Unless you are Wolverine from X-Men. Then you have a different problem. But for me, for now… trying again to sleep a decent number of hours. Here we go I guess, right?