The horrible Monday morning

Why is it that I’m always being pulled back into the work week on a day when I begin to feel like one more day will be what it takes to restore me to human again?

The days leading up to this “long” weekend saw me making lots of plans to use this time off to catch up with my mountains of pixelwork. To ‘get ahead’ for the working week ahead of me. I wouldn’t stretch it. Oh no. I was going to just do one or two hours of project work every day this weekend.


This weekend hit and I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t crack the laptop. Not even to enter the missing days on my time sheets.

The fact that I have missing days on my timesheets, and that they’ve lasted for over a week to get filled now, briding the month-end gap as well… this is a warning sign to me that I’m hitting the wall. Not just the wall of the day where you’ve put in a good 7 hours of straight productive time and now the brain needs to stop working for a little bit. No, this wall is the kind that forms the upper boundary on performance.

The overall pattern

I’m more concerned by the fact that I do nothing but work anymore. I don’t say that to be over dramatic. I’m pretty comfortable with the idea that I have to work at something which isn’t for me in order to live. But lately I drag myself awake, drag myself to work, drag myself home, only to pass out on the couch in front of the TV. Staying awake long enough to watch my shows is a victory of “reclaiming personal time”. On the weekends, doing something with friends invariably makes me cranky because it’s cutting into my time to … do nothing but sit and recharge.

There’s nothing that I want to do, except more of nothing.

I’m not even talking about leisure. I’m talking about rest. I’m talking about recharging the physical, mental, and emotional batteries. There are no side projects happening. This isn’t like last year where I would work full time and then hop off into full time coursework. Maybe that broke my brain, or maybe it’s that the combination of jobs I’m working threatens to overwhelm me.

I don’t like the pattern my life has become. And I can’t really complain about it to my boss or work with her to come to a solution because I’m not putting in long hours in the office.

I found myself last night whining at my partner that what I really wanted now was for this exact job… only much slower. So that I could take the time to do things right, to feel like there was some kind of closure or accomplishment. So that I don’t feel like things are just barely within my control or knowledge.

I owe, I owe…

Well, back to work. Complaining doesn’t seem to do much. It’s just a matter of expectations. And I expect that until I get myself out of Connecticut, out of the United States, this is going to be what I have to work with. This is the tradeoff to avoid unemployment and continue earning something that can be sort of made into a working salary for two.


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