Tuesday 8 November 2011

Don't ask

Arf.  I am mardy.  Too mardy to sleep, to mardy to socialise, too mardy to work.  It's all I can do to hide it from Bean.

Today I am thinking about working but really, really want to just hide under some covers and stare at the tv.  I would take a sicky if this was a normal job.  Thing is, what if I stay mardy for weeks?  I can't take every day off and last week was pretty unproductive.  It's getting to crunch time - not a time to be wagging off feeling sorry for myself!

I am so mardy I can't even tell anyone.  Am a completely depressing, grumpy, knackered idiot. 

I think I shall take a look at my work and see if there is anything i can concentrate on.  I really think I should try and give myself permission to take the day off and lounge about and wallow a bit, with a view to getting better later and hopefully waking up tomorrow feeling spritely and with my coping mechanisms nicely back in place. 

I know I should go swimming or something, get some happy hormones kicking in.  But I am so fatigued even walkinig makes me ache.  I am such a feeb!  Oh what to do. 

I shall try and work and then hide and try and recuperate enough to be cheery for Bean when I need to get him later.  The guilt that we are paying for his childcare, to be loved by someone else while I sit at home wallowing in nonsense doesn't really help though.

Hey ho, peaks and troughs.  It's only work.

x J

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