I’m not burnout. At least, I don’t think I am…yet. But I can smell the smoke. The burnout is on the horizon. And me, being the sad little candle I am, I’m giving it everything I can until the flame disappears.
Today, I’m probably feeling this way mainly because I woke up feeling like I was a million degrees every hour last night. Heat waves don’t mix with pregnancy hormones and sleep loss makes me an extremely grumpy person.
Also, I came back from a not horrible, but also not what I wanted to hear thesis meeting.
And my work day today will be at least 12 hours, meaning I won’t be home before bedtime.
And I feel like a pregnant whale.
And I’m tired…did I mention tired?
The plan? I’m going to go to Confession in between errands tonight to try to build up some wax. I’m going to try to take the rest of the day moment by moment. I’m going to breathe. And, probably most importantly, I’m going to stop telling myself that I can’t do this and deserve an easier life because neither of those things are true nor are they helpful.
Oh, and I’m probably going to take a giant nap while Vivi naps tomorrow. Somehow, planning out future naps seems to talk me down from the ledge.