{ i am easily gotten down, it's true }

i want to get on

with getting on with things...

{ imogen heap }

i'm not ready to go further from where i left off last time, but i will say this:
i'm slowly coming to the realisation that i am not hard to love. i actually think i'm quite lovable (and before you think i'm a prick, trust me when i say that if you knew how unfavorably i think of myself 98% of the time, you'd know i'm not just being conceited). but i do think loving me is hard, because it's so hard for me to accept love. is there a more concise way to say this...? yes. here it is: i'm lovable, but i'm not easy to love. does that clear everything up?

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today was a long painful decline with unpredictable and unwelcome bursts of anxiety. considering my personality type and my daily environment, i think i do very well managing and masking my fatigue...it's a skill i've had no choice but to cultivate and excel at, or i would've either been fired or committed to a mental institution. but today...today started with an explosive bang and on several occasions found me on the phone with one person while four or five other people carried on animated conversations two feet away, or confronting a frustrated person, or having to deliver unexpected (bad) news. and before this turns into a full-blown "my job is so hard and i wanted to punch everyone in the face" episode, i'll stop myself and say this: even having stayed a full hour after everyone else went home to wrap up the day and prepare the office for tomorrow's patients, i still left feeling completely overwrought and in need of deep repair. wind me up that tightly and i need serious decompression. it's a drawback of being me.

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today's serious decompression has consisted of:

• a quick and ready dinner of quinoa patties i made sunday afternoon in anticipation of a work week just like the one i'm leaning into right now (way to anticipate your basic needs, kjk)
• my bottom half currently being hugged by a crimson-magenta pair of leggings (go on, judge me)
• the third glass of water in the past hour (have fun with that once i crush an early bedtime in a few minutes, bladder)
• day six of thirty days of yoga (wasn't sure i'd find my breath after 11 solid hours of barely keeping it together, but there it was, right where i left it)
• imogen heap's "ellipse" in my ears (hello 2009, it's been awhile)
• tomorrow's lunch: already made, last night (because somehow i knew today was going to suck times ten thousand, well played once again adult self)
• the quiet time with a real book and its pages i'm about to spend before turning out the lights

on that: i made a few "soft" resolutions this year. as in, they're not getting written down in any official manner, i didn't stress over them, and they arose completely organically out of a continued desire to keep moving forward (not out of a forced place of introspection related to the turning of a calendar page). one of them is as follows: i want to get better rest, and better at resting. i know for a scientific fact that all the damn pixels in my amazing personal electronic devices tell my brain to act up even more than it normally is at the end of an already-overstimulating day. but all i wanna do at the end of an exhausting day is zone out with makeup tutorials and instagram...hashtag, welcome to being human, right? i've been telling myself i need to seriously revamp my bedtime routine for months, but i think i just wasn't exhausted enough to ditch the social media security blanket(s) and get real about helping myself to truly wind down before bed...because the only thing worse than not being able to wind down is the condemning voice that chimes in so sweetly at that point, saying super helpful things like, what's wrong with you? why are you so retarded and unable to fall asleep like a normal person? you know you're going to feel this tomorrow, don't you? only four hours and thirteen minutes until your alarm goes off. way to go, weirdo stupid face.) 

if you're human and if you're honest, you'll feel me when i say that breaking the habit of checking instagram ONE last time (as if missing the 764th aerial latté shot that day would be some sort of personal travesty) is way harder than it should be. (it doesn't help that i'm just a night owl anyway, out of the crazy belief that if i go to sleep i might miss something fantastical. i have always been this way.) also, doesn't it just make sense that watching something will definitely help get you ready to shut down? problem is, if you're me and you have a very active mind, not to mention an easily ignitable imagination, everything except the dumbest of pointless comedies blasts unlimited tunnels of thought-possibility into existence that just have to be explored before sleeping. another drawback of being me (there are many).

so it's one of my soft resolutions to reduce pre-sleep screen time in favor of other, more productive rituals. so far it's hit or miss: monday night i read in bed for a full hour before turning out the lights. last night i jumped down a social media rabbit hole and was sliding my thumb across my phone screen way past lights-out. tonight i hoped to have 30 minutes of reading before sleep...but i've already been blogging for 28 minutes longer than i planned. however, the words were asking to be said and a little spontaneity never hurt anybody.

on that note, i'm off to my book and my duvet

and my way-too-soon, damnit-it's-still-dark alarm.

bonnes rêves, mes amis.