Sometimes I truly ask myself...

[wiseheart]

... why do I undertake suicidal attempts like organising a baking feast with 30+ schoolkids. I think the reason is that I lead such a dull life it couldn't be borne otherwise.

Beacuse, you see, what am I doing? I've got a poorly-paid, unappreciated, thankless job at an impossible schedule that leaves me practically no time to do anything else. Since I work in pairs with other people, I don't even have the independence to work as I'd like, and so I can't really show what I'd be capable of, if people only let me. Well, perhaps I've mentally and morally degraded so much in the recent ten or so years that I won't even be able to show it anymore.

Then I come home to Mum, who's a jewel - who know her personally can testify this - but I'm every bit as unable to have an independent schedule at home as I am at work. Things are being done at the speed and in the way as Mum needs (or wants) them to be done, down to such unimportant detail as when the frigging carpets need ironing and stuff.

And that's pretty much what my life is. I don't go to conferenes or conventions or writing workshops or even to the next town to meet people. Hell, I don't even have people to meet in this country. I don't even know people outside of work anymore. My entire social life - such as it is - happens via the internet, and if I didn't have you people, I'd have probably gone mad years ago.

So, it's small wonder that I don't have anything even vaguely interesting to post about. Nothing is happening to me, and when it is, it's bad (see Mum's recent health crisis). I haven't had an undisturbed hour alone for myself for five weeks, I haven't even slept in my own bed for just as long, haven't watched my own telly when I felt just like browsing a little...

Don't misunderstand me - I do it willingly for Mum, and I'm really, really happy to have her back with me, and that she's doing so fine. It's half a miracle at her age, for which I'm grateful. I'm just so very tired of not having a life... not that that wold be anything new.

So, perhaps among the repeated spectacular failures at work and writing, I simply need to break out of this general greyness from time to time. Even if it means to bake with 30 schoolkids or so, after which I'll be most likely cursing and whining and swearing that I'd never do such a stupid thing ever again. Or, at the very least, until next time.

Comments

[wiseheart.livejournal.com]

Sounds awfully familiar. *hugs*