I've started working full-time again. And I'm getting closer to finding what I really want to do. After five years of going in the completely wrong route, I finally feel like things are moving slightly towards the right direction. However, that doesn't mean that everything is hunky-dory. I'm now trying to juggle a home and a job and so far, I've had a couple of break-downs plus a hundred-and-three degree fever.
My job isn't so terrible and LH is, surprisingly, not very demanding so life isn't all drudgery and nervous melt-downs. But you know what the worst part of the day is? Getting up from bed. Just thinking about what I have to face that day completely overwhelms me. At that point, I want to curl up in bed with LH and never get up. Ever.
And it doesn't help that he never wakes up before me. I feel jealous of his extra sleeping time. I feel tempted to let breakfast and lunch slide, and pretend I don't have two crowded buses to catch in the sweltering heat, to go to a job that is still not exactly what I was hoping it would be. I feel like a big cry baby.
But yes, I wake up. I whip up something to eat half the time, and survive on cornflakes and bread the other half. I catch two buses in the scorching heat and go to office. The rest of the day somehow goes past me when I'm not looking because I'm kept pretty occupied with work as the company's only content writer. And then suddenly I'm catching two buses back home and cooking dinner. Or asking LH to be a doll and buy me takeout.
And the day is over. Somehow, after deciding that it is impossible to get through that day if I get out of bed, I've gotten through the day.
But I'm still going to be depressed getting out of bed tomorrow. Manufacturing defect.
My job isn't so terrible and LH is, surprisingly, not very demanding so life isn't all drudgery and nervous melt-downs. But you know what the worst part of the day is? Getting up from bed. Just thinking about what I have to face that day completely overwhelms me. At that point, I want to curl up in bed with LH and never get up. Ever.
And it doesn't help that he never wakes up before me. I feel jealous of his extra sleeping time. I feel tempted to let breakfast and lunch slide, and pretend I don't have two crowded buses to catch in the sweltering heat, to go to a job that is still not exactly what I was hoping it would be. I feel like a big cry baby.
But yes, I wake up. I whip up something to eat half the time, and survive on cornflakes and bread the other half. I catch two buses in the scorching heat and go to office. The rest of the day somehow goes past me when I'm not looking because I'm kept pretty occupied with work as the company's only content writer. And then suddenly I'm catching two buses back home and cooking dinner. Or asking LH to be a doll and buy me takeout.
And the day is over. Somehow, after deciding that it is impossible to get through that day if I get out of bed, I've gotten through the day.
But I'm still going to be depressed getting out of bed tomorrow. Manufacturing defect.
