Writing

Seriously needs to happen tonight. I'm behind 5500 words again. Blast.

A Train Wreck of a Day

God, today was awful.

It has to do with a lot of stuff, including the fact that my health insurance doesn't work and I have to run around the office begging for money. Then there were loud coworkers, fighting down hysterical responses, being asked to get coffee for one of the IT guys (it was an innocent request, it just brought up my lingering animosity toward being a useless secretary), first official meeting with a new supervisor in a new department. It was a poor to terrible performance during our Zumba class (I move like a stone; the only part I felt confident with was when we punched). It was waiting too long for meds at the pharmacy. It was being overbudget on fun money for the month. It was not enough workouts. It was moving departments. It culminated in me spending an hour waiting for an apartment showing... in front of the WRONG apartment complex. By the time I called the guy a second time and sorted out that I was in front of the wrong place, he'd gone home, and I felt so stricken and stupid - it was so much the perfect end to a perfectly shitty day - that I just walked home and cried the whole way.

It's change. It's terror that I can't actually hack it on my own now, after getting sick. It's terror that in fact, I am crazy and incompetent, and once I'm on my own, that will become abundantly clear. I have a lot of really fantastic stuff going for me right now, and now I have to bring it, and after failing to fucking find the right apartment complex absolutely killed me tonight. Look at the level of my incompetence! I can't even show up to an apartment showing! What if being sick has permanently fried my brain? What if I can't make it?

I hate relying on health insurance to live, and relying on an employer for health insurance. I hate being so crazy-busy that my brain just... stops. That I can find the right apartment place, circle the block and *stand outside the wrong apartment a block away because they look alike for an hour.* I should have, at the very least, re-called after half an hour. I should have - duh! - seen that I was now standing in front of a complex that was in the middle of a street, not a corner lot like the one I passed while doing a loop around it. What the hell? How did I not see that? I just stood there like a sheep, like my brain saw it, and clicked and all reasoning power turned off.

And this is who needs to hack it. This is the one who's corp copywriter, building sales projects, has a three book contract, and lives or dies by how well she can calculate her insulin/food/exercise percentages four times a day each and every day. And, of course, that's the rub, isn't it?

How many things can you keep in your head? How much can you do until your brain shuts off what it considers non-vital? How much until you just overload and have to shrug everytime you blow a gasket and go, "OK, well, shit, I guess that was one thing too much."

I hated almost everything about today.

Tomorrow will be better.

I can do this, but I'm scared as hell, and until I prove to myself that I can do all this in the face of... all of this, everything I carry along with me, I'm going to be a little freaky about it all for the next couple of months.

Man, I want it all to come together.

Man, I want to shine.