Total Word Count: 10,627
I am burnt out and it has absolutely nothing to do with writing a novel (obviously).
I worked over 8 hours yesterday and was still unable to catch up on my workload. I arrived at home 45 minutes later than I should have. I had no energy left. I wanted to ride my bike, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was so tired. Instead, I spent a couple hours typing out notes from The Fountainhead and The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women for my upcoming book reviews. I then spent a little time reading The Art of Non-Conformity: Set Your Own Rules, Live the Life You Want, and Change the World. (In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I have a pretty broad range of literary tastes).
Later in the evening, I headed north to therapy, where I proceeded to update L_______ on my relationship with D__ and vent about my frustrations and stress related to work. It helped to get things out. It helped to voice my internal struggle regarding my new employment status. I wasn’t really looking for advice. Most of the time I just use my therapist as a sounding board for my thoughts and my own behavior analysis. We moved onto my insomnia. This is obviously a problem that’s not going away. It’s so bad lately that my memory is really slipping. I used to pride myself on my incredible memory. It was never photographic, but it was close. Now it seems like I have trouble remembering the simplest things. For example, I’ve asked D__ 3-4 times when his health benefits will be active. Each time I ask, he gets a little more frustrated because we’ve already had that conversation. Last night, L_______ asked me if I remembered our agreement, should my insomnia continue without improvement. I had no idea what she was talking about. She to remind me that I agreed that, if things got this bad, I would go back on Ambien so I wouldn’t completely fall apart. I hate the idea, but she’s right. It’s the only thing that has a chance of helping at this point. Until I see the endocrinologist, I don’t have any other options. Maybe it will work. Maybe I’ll sleep and maybe I’ll be able to write again.