I did it! I had a reasonable amount of alcohol last night (a beer and a double of bourbon, prompted by writing “only 4 portions” on a piece of paper and sticking it to the liquor cabinet as a not-so-subtle reminder), which meant that I slept quite well, without the wakefulness or anger that has accompanied my nights for about two weeks (AN ASIDE: yes, there is a direct correlation with my brother’s situation).
I feel better, more rested. I am glad that I was able to not get annoyed at my wife’s loud breathing as we slept. I am grateful that I was able to wake up a half hour before my alarm and because I wasn’t annoyed, could hold my sleeping wife for that half hour as opposed to get pissed off about the noise.
However, I also feel like the sludge is more visible. I could always see the (happy) imperfections of my house; that isn’t what I’m talking about. I mean that the sludge – the qualities of the place that I work that make it cold, that prevent it from being a home and that make it abhorrent to my emotional self (I so very much wish that I didn’t feel that word was appropriate in this circumstance) – is clear. I can see the people that pass by without saying hello, I see the people who ask how you are doing and don’t wait for the answer, I see the loneliness in the mirror as I wish there was more to this place.
I will grow professionally and I know that. But my emotional self just needs to grip tight, find the happy moments (a student success, a cool project, a great lesson) and use them to carry me through the sludge.
Jeez, this was supposed to be a happier entry…