I would like to blame abandoning my writing “practice” on the planets. On Mercury Retrograde and then Venus Retrograde and the fact that Mars is in Cancer and that sucks for some reason I can’t totally articulate. But the retrogrades are over, the full moon has passed. According to ‘The Pattern’ I’m in a “healing moment.” That’s a good thing, right? Right?
And…that doesn’t really indicate that I have a reason to point towards the sky with disdain, does it?
I loathe “busy” culture. I absolutely detest how when someone asks, “How are you?” or, “How have things been?” so often our inclination is to spit out some variation of, “Oh I’m just super busy✨✨✨.”
But also I hate how often that’s just…true.
Like so many other people I know and love, I’m currently swamped.
Between work, personal projects, birthdays, weddings, holidays, therapy, taking care of my dog, and the never-ending quest of “getting one’s shit together,” I feel like I barely have time to get 7 hours of sleep per night. I can feel it. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I’m not really myself. I’m hustling; that’s for sure. I have multiple spreadsheets that are meticulously color coded to keep several things on track, my inbox is somehow not out of control. But my eczema is also exploding on my arms again, I had a dream about being late to a kick off meeting while I was actually on vacation, I’ve regularly found myself on the couch at 10 PM just staring at the wall and being fine with that because trying to enjoy a book honestly feels laborious.
Simply put, I’ve been really busy and it sucks.
This might be cocky, but I do tend to think of myself as a fun person. I’m witty, I’m quick, I’m a good listener, I know a lot of things, I’m generally “down” provided being “down” doesn’t keep me out at a bar with a sticky floor too late. But the first thing that goes out the window when I start to feel like I’m sinking is the ability to feel fun.
Which is why I haven’t been writing, or doing much of anything outside of what I “have to” and, again, simply put it sucks. I have been reading, but it took literally going to a cabin covered in skylights with no wifi to get me out of a slump. I regularly find myself scrolling instead of doing things I love, or listening to the same Reddit stories on podcasts in an effort to actually coax myself into a REM cycle. I haven’t been hiking in months, I’m neglecting my roots, I don’t think I remember how to put on makeup or feel cute right now.
Basically, I’m busy but I’m also over being busy. I’m not “happier” busy anymore. It actually throws me wildly off my game.
I recognize this is like, the most annoying problem on the planet. Oh no!! You have a lot going on and you’re tired?! You don’t feel fun or funny right now because you have a lot of decks to make? And also? Your job entails a lot of *deck! making!* in the first place?! Lord have mercy boo fucking hoo, bitch.
But nevertheless, it’s how I’ve been feeling.
Someone once told me it takes actual years to recover from burnout and I’m starting to believe that’s true. The beauty industry really beat me up (another piece of lore for another day) but given that we all continue to have to exist under capitalism and deal with, you know, bills, I didn’t really get the opportunity after being bitch slapped by that work environment to hit the pause button when I probably needed to. And now when thing after thing and what not after what not continue to happen because life doesn’t just stop because you’d like it to, the pause button is still not a reality.
I think I’ve been very much in denial for a few years about how much Some Stuff™ has impacted me. The eczema that exploded all over my body? Probably just allergies! The throwing up for months every morning on cue? Well that’s the trauma of what happened, it’ll pass. The urge to do nothing other than sit in a quiet room whenever I have a moment of down time? Everybody feels that way, right?
I’ve talked a fair amount in this Substack about the importance of habits. And it isn’t lost on me how when I find myself reaching the metaphorical metal stopper at the end of the metaphorical of the wick from literally (kind of) burning the candle at both ends all of my habits go right out the window. My “hot girl” walks stop, my hydration tanks, my writing stagnates. All of it starts to atrophy.
But maybe it’s possible for multiple things to exist at the same time. Maybe it’s possible to still have fun while trying not to drown. Tides don’t stop rising just because you wander out to sea, and stress doesn’t say, “oh my b, take a second” just because your plate already feels full. So maybe the point is to continue on, anyway.
Albeit at a more manageable pace. (I’m trying!!!!)
So here is where I have landed:
Am I burnt out as fuck? Yes. Do I still want to have fun and feel like me and not just look for shapes in the plaster on the ceiling? Also yes.
How do you have fun while drowning? How do you laugh while continuing to tread water? How do you enjoy things when you’re so over having to hold your breath?
I’ll chill with the water metaphors now.
For me the answer does resemble something akin to pulling myself up by my bootstraps, or whatever. It means going outside, even if just to walk around the block a few times. It means writing, because no novel (or substack) is going to publish itself. It means saying yes to plans, even when the couch is enticing. It means answering the phone to catch up, even when I hate turning off ‘Do Not Disturb.’ It means reading a few pages, because it’s better than watching the same TikToks over and over again.
It means prioritizing fun, even when that also feels semi-exhausting.
This formula is by no means either A) new or B) perfect, but it’s something.
And at the end of the day something is always going to be better than continuing to let yourself sink.