I am back with another weather report. It’s going to fascinate me until the threat of a frost has passed. At the rate we’re going, it won’t be until winter comes–and then it won’t be at all. it’s currently 44F, and this is the lowest it’s supposed to get in the next week or ten days. I’m wearing a hoodie, which I had thought I would not need again this season.

I have said several times that I love the cold. If it could be under forty year round, I would be down with that. The problem is when it switches from seventies to forties over the course of a single day. My body is so not happy. Even though I’m mostly inside where the temp is a calming 62 degrees.

I managed to get to bed around three-thirty, which is istll within the range of when I want to get to bed. I’m shooting for three, but I’ll take this as a huge win considering that I’ve gone from eight in the morning to three-thirty within a matter of days.

It’s got me thinking about other problems in my life and how I deal with them in a similar fashion.  What I mean is that I ignore them, try the obvious solutions, ignore them some  more, then try something radical that may or may not work.

Like with my sleep issues, the bad decision I made (staying up for 72 hours) led to the better decision I made (reverting to my previous habit of doing what I neded to do before doing the fun stuff). Today, I backslid a bit, but as long as I get my shit down by three-thirty/four, it’s fine. Or at least keeping me on track. As I said in yesterday’s post (or the one before, maybe), I would ideally like to make three in the morning my consistent go to bed time. I’m close to it and I’m doing a good job, but I’m worried that I’ll let myself slip little by little until I’m back to my old schedule.

I got a good seven hours last night, but it could have been more if  Ihadn’t fucked up my alarm. What I mean is that I didn’t reset my alarm from 11 a.m. (for my Zoom Taiji class yesterday)  to something later than that. That means that I got up at eleven, even though I was aiming for twelve.

I do wonder what is fucking up my memory even more so than it’s normally fucked. It’s been markedly worse in the last few weeks, and I’m sure it’s a vicious cycle with my lack of sleep. or rather, broken sleep. I have accepted I now have a shitty memory since my medical crisis, but it’s gotten even worse in the past few weeks.

I will admit that this is the worst I’ve felt in quite some time. Normally, I’m good at ignoring it, but it’s hit me hard in the last few weeks. I don’t know why, exactly. Yes, my sleep is shitty and the weather is bouncing all over the place, but that’s nothing unusual in my world. Nor is it even the worst it should have been in that I was getting at least six hours of sleep a night. I have gotten four hours a night in the past, so this should be a breeze for me.

I’m so done. With what? With everything. That’s it. That’s all. I’m just done with everything.

No, it’s not all.

It just feels like all because everything is on my last nerve. My life. The country. The rest of the world. I’m just over it all.

I’m glancing at the clock, and it’s two in the morning. Once again, I let the time slip by without doing anything about it. I should have gotten this done ten hours ago, but I just could not get my will together to do it. It doesn’t help that I then berate myself over it, which means that I just make myself feel worse about it.

I know, you know (Lee Know) that the best way to make things worse is by beating yourself up over something that you’ve done wrong or have not done. The shame makes it so that the not-wanted behavior is even more deeply entrenched. Thus, the cycle never ends.

I wish I could go back a year, but that’s futile, of course. Wanting to go back in time makes things worse, too, because then I just spend so much time hating myself for everything I haven’t yet done.

I used to reserve most of that hatred for my birthday, but why the hell not feel it all year around? Also, this was Mother’s Day in America. I used to hate this day beacuse I felt obliged to send a card to my mother. If I didn’t, I would get aggro from either her or my father or both. And then I would just feel even worse than I had in the past. Which was pretty bad to begin with.

I have to say that this is probably the worst I’ve felt in quite some time. Years, in fact. It’s not just one thing, either. So many things have happened in the past few years, but gradually. Or rather, each thing was big as a discrete thing, but they were spread out over the years.

The biggest one is something I still can’t talk about becasue it has left a big hole in my heart. I have slowly been healing from it, but I still don’t like to talk about it. I probably will at some part, but not yet. Not now. It’s been over two years since it happened, and I still tear up when i think of it.

It happened the day after the trailer for the Shadow of the Endrtree dropped, so the two are indelibly entwined in my brain. This is both a good and a bad thing, or rather, it’s just a thing. It’s not something I can change, so there’s no reason to fret about it. That doesn’t mean I don’t, of course, but it is, as the kids say, it is. That’s all for now.