It is really, REALLY tough at present to form coherent sentences. To give an idea: normally I can type at a fair old lick, and there’s very little thought involved when an idea’s front and centre. Right now I am having to think about every single letter being typed, and am working at the speed of an arthritic snail. This is all hormonally generated (and started late last night) and all I can hope is that the day goes on, my woes will lessen. The great thing about writing is that you can hide your inadequacies quite well, unless of course like this you decide to be honest with the shortcomings. Getting anything written and saved right now?
I had hoped to walk today but the more unpleasant side effects of the hormonal overload pretty much scuppered that at breakfast. Then I was suddenly so tired I may have added an extra hour and a bit to last night’s sleep total. This level of fatigue is a first: so ferocious that I’m literally stopped dead and totally drained where I stand. I’ll admit I’d snatch the odd catnap back in the days when I was pushing the walking, but that was nothing compared to this. I realise it could be the compound of an earlier start time every day, but there’s more truth in the last throws of fertility deciding to chuck a spanner in the collective works.
This is where pencil and paper saves me, every time. Making long form lists is keeping me sane. I’m able to preserve a notion of not only organisation but normality. Without my written words, it would all have fallen over a long time ago. This is not bad, anything but. Having perspective is really important.
Nothing is ever as bad as you think it is.