Is this how it’s supposed to be?

Now that I’ve settled into my new job—and subsequently my new schedule—I’m beginning to find that I’m considerably more productive outside of working hours. You know, on my own stuff. The stuff that has to be done or I’ll drown in laundry and dishes, but also the stuff that’s supposed to be fun. I’ve started to be less glued to my sofa. I move around. I take care of things in the moment, rather than letting the piles grow until I’m forced to deal with them. I can drum up the energy to start a long(ish)-term project—something that needs glue- or paint-drying time, or simply can’t be finished in one sitting. I’m reorganizing with a speed and determination I haven’t experienced in…possibly ever, actually.

Mind you, the pile o’ stuff that needs to go to places like Goodwill to be donated, or the half-price book store etc. to be sold back is slowly taking over my living room because where the heck else am I supposed to keep it until the world opens back up, but never mind…

I’ve been thinking about this second wind I’m experiencing, and I’ve come up with quite a few plausible explanations for it, the first (and likeliest) being the fact that I was finally able to break away from a job which for five years had held me in a state of perpetual anxiety and frustration—albeit at varying levels, but looking back it’s easy to see that even on the ‘good’ days it was always there, lurking just around the corner. Expending the majority of your energies in the service of an institution where you are acutely aware of your disposability can wear on a person, most especially for a prolonged period of time. When the norm, day in and day out, is being immersed in an environment where your worth is based solely on what you can do for someone in the moment, you start frantically trying to be overly useful, which leads to emotional exhasution. When your employers embody the textbook definition of the double standard, the “do as I say, not as I do” attitude, and favoritism is rampant, you get jaded. And when everything you do well goes unrewarded but your tiniest mistake is invariably put on blast, at some point, you give up.

Obviously my personal definition of ‘giving up’ is still to plough through and get things done on time and as perfectly as possible, but with the demon voice at the back of my head screaming at me the whole time. That little fucker is too mouthy for his own good...sadly, ‘that little fucker’ is me, but...one problem at a time, okay?

Any old way, I’m in a much better place now. My schedule has been adjusted to something resembling a normal human being’s. My commute has been drastically shortened, thus decreasing the amount of time I spend on the road every day and increasing the amount of time I have available to me to do, you know, whatever. In addition to these things, my work situation has improved in a staggering fashion. The people I work for appreciate my drive and my accuracy and my dedication and my intelligence and even my sense of humor, holy cow.

I think it’s doing good things for my brain.

No, really. I think the uptick in general positivity and supportiveness and, IDK, people actually saying “thank you” (I no, rite? Such a concept!) has contributed in a big way to the fact that I seem suddenly(ish) to be able to exist like a human being as opposed to a sleep-deprived shell. Of course, there’s still the general garbagefireness of the world as a whole, and a nasty virus, and murder hornets (WTactualF?!) and I’m still having a hard time with all of that, yes, but on the whole…

I just kind of feel like if I finally have enough oomph behind me to get around to glittering a pair of sneakers like I’ve been saying I’m going to do for umpteen years, it’s a good thing.

Right?