I’ve put off a lot of things. Including writing. Including writing here. Partially because the last three weeks I was getting somewhat better at prioritising what needed to be done. But then, a lot needed to get done. The To-do list never stopped.
I started a ‘To-Done’ list in my head to deal with the mounting To-Do. And I just stalled from there. I don’t feel compelled to ‘do’ to be ‘done’. I’m forcing myself to write this because it’ll be the first thing on my ‘To-Done’ list since… a week ago?
That’s not really fair. It’s more like four days. I know this because H has gotten me to record everything I do for every hour of the day (except between 4-8 am) for the past three weeks. It’s been rough and eventful, and I can see three trends which I need to accept.
1. I actually do get a lot more than I think done. But I give myself far too much to do. I set myself up to fail myself and others this way.
2. I have an obsessive-compulsivity for everything to be ‘just right’ in order to move forward. And because everything in this world is variable, I get weighed down and scared to do anything beyond the constants I can keep.
3. Because in the past few weeks, I have had substantial fluxes in life-depending categories (romantic relationships, the internet, health, employment), the only constants my body is able to do is smoking, keeping absolutely up-to-date with Instagram, and steadily reading/finishing Bitch by Elizabeth Wurtzel (written in 1998, but still so uncannily relevant).
Re: Relationships, I got tinder. For a brief time, I lived out my female stud fantasies. It truly is a wonderful piece of technology (if you’re a hetero woman, since 95% of it is all dudes of varying instinct and desire, which you can competently weed out with texting). Then I got back together with my partner of the last six(?) months. We met on OkCupid and he was the first person I’d ever met from the site, which made me think for the longest time that because we’d latched on to each other, that I hadn’t made an informed choice. I was also arguably insane at that point, dependent, and very close to being committed to a ward again for ‘exhaustion’. It’s always ‘exhaustion’ in Singapore, if you’re a nice, middle-class, educated, local. Even the boys with their slash marks at their necks. It’s never a suicide, because suicide here is illegal. Trust the state to control everything including your will to live. Anyway. This second go at things is perhaps the most functional thing I’ve managed this month. It helps that he is and has always been patient with me. He bought me a box of dates yesterday because I wasn’t eating well and said, Now you don’t need tinder anymore! (Lol. When bae tries to be funny)
Re: The Internet, was broken. But I fixed it. Arguably it put a sudden stop in my workflow. But it’s been fixed for a week now and I just can’t bring myself to answer my emails or get work done. I’ve also had emotional flares to do with upsetting content I’ve seen on my feeds including, but not limited to, shoddy journalism, misogynist and plain stoopid photos from colleagues, pictures of babies alongside stillborns in the run-up to Mother’s Day. This deserves a post on its own and so I won’t comment further.
Re: Health, I’ve developed a lump (lumps?) in my thyroid. It comes and goes. Swallowing gets painful. I had no idea as human beings we naturally need to swallow so much, all the time. At its worse, I’m afraid that it’ll swell up til I stop breathing and die in my sleep. I’ve been to three different doctors. All of them said it was viral, but gave me two courses of antibiotics which I’ve finished. The next step is A&E to do a scope, the last guy said. Also because it was 4 am and he was young, he told me, “I know this sucks. I’m sorry it’s gonna be a bitch to swallow all these pills.”
(I’m 29. It’s now become adorable when doctors in hoodies, fresh out of school, have that semi-getting-fresh bedside manner with you.)
Now that it’s showed up for the fourth time in two months, I’m thinking of just waiting for my appointment with my psychiatrist on Tuesday, since I see him in a hospital anyway. It’s possible that this is psychosomatic; that I’ve thought myself into so much rage and anger and sadness that my hormone-makers are overworked. In the meantime, I’ve been collecting all the spare Anarex in the house. My diet is now all liquid and pills, what I usually have to take notwithstanding. Knocking out pills like shots is itself depressing.
Re: Employment, I started another freelance job. But it’s more like a full-time job from home. I am very grateful. These people answer emails and pay on time, which is a joy in and of itself. But I hate myself for disappointing them with all the shit I let pile up that stops me from being #supereffective. Granted, the #lumpofevil has been a real doozy to get around. I’ve had to cancel some voiceover jobs over the last few weeks which is frustrating.
I don’t know if writing all of this down has been the cathartic exercise I’ve needed to reboot. But I sure hope so.
It is 10.59 pm on a Sunday and tomorrow – which is in another hour – is another day.