01 november 2020
I started a writing month today. I forget every year how many words 1667 really is. I've finished for today, though. I really miss her.
I started a writing month today. I forget every year how many words 1667 really is. I've finished for today, though. I really miss her.
I woke up today and I was really, really tired. It’s the end of the first week in a new role at work. I lay in bed until an uncharacteristic noon and having just gotten up, everything feels like far too much effort. If I’m tired or unhappy I can usually carry it around with me as I get on with things but I feel very under it today. I hope it’s not COVID-19 fatigue (the clinical kind, not the morale kind).
This morning I went to the gym before work. Usually I go in the evenings and I found the place was a lot busier and difficult to navigate in a socially distant way. I'm glad I went but by the time I got home I needed to get on with work pretty quickly, but my external monitor had stopped working. I was ready to smash it into tiny pieces over nothing. Something about raised testosterone and frustration in other areas of my life, something about knowing how much I had to do today and how few roadblocks I could afford.
I went for a run first thing this morning and didn't push myself much, but it was still great to be out in the autumn sun. She was too tired to go, and said she'd go later. I'm worried she won't and will feel worse for it.
I'm going to the gym later, to work on my arms. I feel like they shrink away to nothing after a few days, faster than I could ever build them up. Some days I have this anxiety that I can feel them wasting, I can feel something in them eating itself. I guess that's maybe what body dysmorphia feels like. She says they look fine. I feel anxious in short sleeves.
She got back late, and it was good to have her, to break my patterns.
I had been for a swim and when I don't go with her I'm more likely to get out and check my phone, which completely defeats the point and makes me a bit sad. I need to get back to where I was in terms of having mastery over my own habits.
This house is so quiet when it's just me here in the evenings. I don't know if I've been ill or just depressed all day and the being alone (when I'm so used to the opposite) is making the feeling more intense.
I try to think back to how I felt when I was alone before, at 45, and I think maybe a lot of evenings I did feel like this.