It’s 2pm. I’m disappointed, frustrated, and sick.
I was agitated late last night, so getting to sleep was difficult. I woke up around 1 a.m., watched an episode of Psych, and nibbled on peanut butter and crackers before heading back to bed for a fitful night’s sleep.
I didn’t have a big day planned. I was going to hop on an important call about some volunteer work and then spend a couple of hours reviewing job openings. Well, the phone call was delayed until later in the morning and eventually cancelled, as I lost time waiting and doomscrolling on my laptop. With no resolution from the phone call, a source of future anxiety is still up in the air.
Of course, I’m free now to tackle the simple task of reviewing job listings, but the detour and uncertainty of the morning have left me out of sorts, and I can’t bring myself to put my butt in the chair, focus, and get shit done. It’s such a simple and straightforward thing to do, yet it’s so difficult.
And all this comes at a time when I’m facing a long road ahead—more complex tasks, mounting financial pressure, and the weight of a continued job hunt this summer. And there’s the nagging thought: “Things shouldn’t be this difficult.” And now, it isn’t just about a momentary frustration, but a lifetime of them… things that shouldn’t have been so difficult, but were.
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