What is it about mood and writing that seem to go so close together? Why is it that when I’m not in the mood these days, I don’t seem to be able to write, not even moody pieces, as I used to?
Lately it seems that my life is a bit of a roller coaster, in terms of mood and energy. I don’t go all the way up or all the way down (usually), but I can see it going as waves. The part that seems consistent lately is the lack of energy to write, not only on my novel, but also here, which is a bit sad.
I know I haven’t run out of things to say, it’s just that I don’t feel like typing stuff. I’ve even thought about doing some short posts, or maybe just one-photograph posts, just to keep publishing stuff regularly, but it’s just not happening.
A friend recently told me that I sounded like I was depressed, and I’ve been wondering if she’s right ever since we spoke. True, when we spoke I was feeling quite down (being ill does that to you), and I was feeling like I only wanted to sleep (anaemia does that to you too), but normally, even if I’m tired, I want to do things, I want to make stuff. I felt like I was wasting my time (my life?), but I didn’t feel like doing anything to fix it. I just wanted to sleep for a week and rest.
To this day, I don’t know if what I’m feeling is some form of depression, or if I’m just exhausted.
Take today, for example. I woke up feeling awful. Headaches, tiredness, nausea, the usual stuff. First thing I had to do in the morning, take pain killers, and once I started to feel a bit better, I basically couldn’t keep my eyes opened. I told work I wasn’t coming in, and slept all the way through to 1pm. I would have stayed sleeping for the rest of the day, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. Right now, writing this, I’m yawning and wanting to sleep again, which I will do in a minute.
Last weekend then (not this one just gone, the one before), I didn’t do much. On Monday, though, Bank Holiday as it was, I decided to make a clutch bag, and posted a couple of photos on Instagram. I wanted to make another one this weekend, so I could make photos of the process, but I didn’t in the end.
I also joined to run Race for Life in London, later in June, and I need to raise £150. I already know it’s not going to happen, almost no one I know donates money when I fundraise, but that’s OK. I think I might be able to get some money by doing a bake sale. Incidentally, if you do want to donate money, here’s the link to my JustGiving page. As you can see there, I’ve donated money myself. The entry fee was just under £15 and since the company I work for is paying that fee, I decided to donate the money and a bit more to the cause.
Another thing I had in mind was to auction the handbag I made, even though it’s not perfect, but I wouldn’t know how to go about it, so I probably won’t do it in the end.
This weekend, I went out on Friday and on Saturday, but on Sunday night I started feeling unwell. No, it wasn’t a hangover. It was an effort to socialise, to be honest, but I have to admit I did have fun in the end, so I’m glad I went out. I’m thinking about the whole going out thing, and I get tired just by imagining the effort. I don’t have energy or will to go to the gym, even though I want to. Am I tired or is it something else? When I check online for symptoms, and read the usual questions, I don’t feel like I’m depressed or anything, and I feel like I have my good reasons for feeling this way. Am I blind about it?
I signed up to volunteer at the house soon, a couple of nights, and I don’t think I’m feeling that up for it… I’m still going to do it, of course, since I already committed to it, and I know I’ll feel better about myself afterwards. When I helped at the Tower of London BHF run the other day, I felt great despite the cold and being tired after a long day. Giving out medals to those crossing the finishing line was emotional. A lot of people would hug you, and everyone had a big smile on their faces, so just the small gesture of giving them a medal made me all warm and happy inside. There was a guy who came back a few minutes later just to thank me for his medal, telling me he had been too focused on crossing the line and getting water to thank me at the time. How sweet is that?
I think the issue is that my mind wants to do things, but my body isn’t up for it, so I keep thinking if I rest just a bit longer, it will all be better. I keep thinking I need holidays, just to stay at home for a full week, sleeping and finding my energy levels back, but I know that’s not going to fix anything and as soon as I start moving again, my iron is going to drop, and my headaches are going to get back and I’m going to be weak again. The worst is the feeling that I can’t control what’s happening to me, that there’s nothing I can do about it. I told Brian today that if I felt sick because of a hangover, at least I would know it’s self-inflicted and it would have a clear timeline and an easy way to avoid it in the future. This, I know it’s going to happen again, like clockwork, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s not like something drastic has happened in my life that has made me change everything, and dramatically affected me. I think it would be hard, but I could learn to heal and move on. It’s the constant chipping away that gets to me, the little wear and tear, like a guerrilla war, attacking in a disorganised manner, through different flanks, that’s what’s driving me crazy.
Right, I definitely need to work tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep with my fingers crossed (is that even possible?) that I will feel better in the morning and during the whole day, at least until I get back home.