ENVIRONMENTS / EXHAUSTION / ENDINGS

The mood I’m in, my abilities, and my anxiety levels depend heavily, I’ve realized, on my surroundings.

Billowing, light-filtering curtains,

a cool breeze,

a cozy blanket,

icy cups of lemon water,

my favorite music playing,

a bath,

and all the time in the world.

That sounds like a dream. There, I’d be at peace.

A hushed huddle of thinkers,

tea in hand,

pastry in… other… hand,

brain bustling,

and a creative list of things to do.

That sounds like a productive environment. There, I’d get shit done.

Physically taxing retail work,

falling asleep on the train,

my dusty childhood bedroom,

a lack of routine,

and lots of clutter.

This is what I’ve been struggling with recently. Here, I’m spiraling.

It’s kind of difficult for me to allow any goodness in

once something is off.

My bed isn’t made? My hair is unwashed and greasy? Well, that means I don’t have to do my laundry either.

For some reason, I let things pile up more when there’s already one stress on my list.

Then, things just pile exponentially.

My broader environment; this currently weather-turbulent section of these tense, despair-ridden United States; has left me in a consistent state of discomfort and worry.

As an already anxious person, this environment has not been beneficial.

Right now, I cling to the concept of finding a new apartment, buying myself a big girl Kitchen Aid stand mixer (ideally secondhand), baking cookies, writing, and resting. I cling to the idea of, maybe one day soon, having weekends off.

On that note…

I feel like now, even while living at home, I could probably be doing more to protect my peace and live in the calm way I want to. I don’t NEED to let my environment slow me down.

Unfortunately, I have this tiredness thing

that is slowing me down.

My overnight sleep study came back with no red flags,

no causes for concern,

and my blood tests were fine,

but I’m still

sleepy.

My doctor thinks it’s just my anxiety and my current workload (I am doing a lot…)

but I’m insisting on getting a few more tests to make sure,

because I’ve always done “a lot”…

and because knocking out immediately when I get home— instead of doing the hobbies and the cleaning that would actually calm me down— is not benefiting me.

The concept of weekends off intrigues me, though. If I can get this to happen soon then I might have a more balanced work week (instead of spending my Mondays and Tuesdays… the days I have off… working on my writing, doing other work-oriented tasks, and [mostly] sleeping).

I am proud of everything I’m doing, I’m proud of my 100-rejections-from-literary-magazines goal, I’m proud that I’m networking with groups of writers and poets across New York City, I’m proud that I’m getting things done,

but I’m so tired.

And it’s making me feel like I’m not doing well enough at anything.

Like, at work in the refillery, I’ve recently found myself sitting more and it makes me feel lazy and bad at my job.

I’m only sharing all of this here because this is truth.

I’d love to always be sharing some new weird food act or new thing I did during the week, but these lows,

the emotional conversations that I have with myself,

are such a true part of the… at least my… creative process. Whether it’s writing, education, work, baking, or anything else, there have been moments throughout where I’ve doubted myself, felt too tired, and wondered what my next step would be.

I’m just experiencing a lot of these questions and doubts all at once,

right now.

It’s making me sleepy.

On that note…

It’s my birthday on Saturday.

I feel odd.

Everyone is telling me how young I still am, and that is so true,

but there’s still that little worm stuck in the core of my brain…

It squeaks at me and tells me how much more I should be learning

or doing

or earning

or speaking.

It tells me to look at all of my former peers and to fret over how much more successful they are at my same age.

The comparison worm is the wormiest worm of all.

Maybe 23 will be the age of squishing the worm.

I never imagined what, or who, I’d be at 23. I’ve thought of myself in the future at certain ages… 16, 21, 30… but 23 was never one of them.

What stage of life am I supposed to be in right now?

I know people my age who have never been in relationships and never had a job, and I know people my age who are married with kids.

Because of this lack of clarity, it’s this “you’re still so young” vs “hurry up and succeed!” battle.

I feel like I don’t have time to read or to watch shows and movies. Or to wander. It’s all sleep… and work… and worry.

I feel a strange sense of guilt because of all of the young people I’ve loved and outlived. For these people, life was condensed into fewer than 23 years. Who’s to say that I’ll get much more than this? Nothing is promised.

So, the whole “you’re so young” argument, one that is used as an attempt to ease my nerves, actually stresses me out more.

Will there be a 40-year-old Annabelle in my future? If there is, how am I supposed to get to her? I know she’ll get here quickly if plans to reach me,

and that also scares me.

Not aging, but the fact that everyone says I’ll look back at this time in my life and miss it.

But, right now,

all I am is

scared.

I am a planner… who has no thorough life plan… and who has no trust in the future of this capitalist hellhole of a country we live in. I just want to create.

I feel like I should end this on a positive note, because I’m being a bit depressing today.

But, I’m being real. Hopefully, next week I’ll be able to show off all my fun birthday festivities. Get ready for pottery painting, food festival, and birthday cake jar (three flavors planned!!) content next week.

Lots of fun, good stuff… so I don’t feel so terrible about this one’s short-and-sad-ness.

And, with that, I’ll leave you with a message—

One that I hope to take in, too.

Honey-roasted peanuts

It’s Arnold Palmer season

Big Brother is coming back soon!

Nothing right now, honestly. This is what I mean!

Frilly shirts under overalls