I should've known better than to think it wouldn't eventually catch up with me. The months of juggling several jobs and endless weeks of 4-5 hrs of sleep a night. When my parents came and cleaned out/rearranged my house, it was like the last straw. It's taking so long to sink in. I'm not myself. My mind is floating off in space and my body is numb. I go to work and am completely distracted. I can't think straight, feel normal, or have a logical conversation. I feel like I'm wandering around lost in the backwoods, somewhere unfamiliar. Last night I made dinner and walked into the atrium to sit and eat it, only to be re-shocked into the reality that my dining table wasn't there. My body didn't like the idea of processing that one, so I plopped myself down on the floor and sat. And ate. And sat. This morning I looked at the mound of clean laundry on my bedroom floor. I looked at the dishes in my sink. And the floors that need cleaning. And I walked into my living room and just sat on the floor. And stared. I can't even handle cleaning. Good thing I live alone.
I need to be more social, or so I'm told. But I am in such a need of a vacation that I can't even handle hanging out with people because my brain won't stay focused and let me have a conversation. I would probably just babble and cry and not really even know why. It amazes me that the human body & psychy can roller coaster so drastically between the highs of busy lives and performing well to the lows of exhasution and desperation of vacations. It's hard to be in the low, to admit I can't always handle life. I don't like the way I feel that looks to others. But I'm being encouraged lately to be completely honest. So I'm trying that. Besides, I don't have the energy to do much else right now. I could really go for a massage or a tropical island right about now. My body hurts from all the Zumba on the carpet.