I have to lighten up. It's the weekend, after all.
Last night I remember crawling to bed. Yeah, that's pretty much accurate. By 8:30 I was still in practice, and my body switched to auto-pilot by then, only switching back to manual for mentally challenging moments (i.e. after-practice exercises for those who lead songs, mrrrf, with great power comes great responsibility ... yes I heard you the first time Uncle Ben).
I was back home at past 10 in the evening. I forced dinner onto myself, on auto-pilot, waited for about an hour to let the food settle in, and pulled the sheets. A little tossing and turning, then bam. Sleep.
Today should be a fitting conclusion to this physically, mentally, emotionally draining week.
--- --- ---
I shouldn't be posting. But I am. I have no one else to talk to, save for myself. Brothers are sleeping. Laundry is being done. Nothing on the TV that sparks my interest at the very least. So, I write.
I'm tired. Like, really tired. I don't know how long I can last with this kind of schedule. In fact, I don't even know my own limits anymore (and I'm not being emo here!). It's like, I thought I reached my limit a few weeks back, but with each passing week, it's as if the limit never existed. The weeks pass by, the details of its days are all a blur to me, save for what is documented in my [office] diary and this LJ.
Is that a good or a bad thing?
I just have to remind myself all the time that today is the tomorrow that I feared yesterday. And, as long as I wake up to a new day, it's always an opportunity to make a difference.
I wish I can talk to someone about these things, and not get a lengthy sermon, or even an "I understand, that's normal" type of answer. At this point, I want someone to empathize with me; I want someone who can give me direction. When BroKen was still my boss he was that person. When I was in MP Lolopie was that person. Now in my mind, those shoes have yet to be filled.
Outside work, I don't think I have anyone I can count on. Even home isn't a safe haven (for me) to talk about work stuff. When Mama brings up work, she always brings it up at the wrong time, or she asks questions that I have given the answer twice or thrice or four times. When I bring it up, she says all of these negatives that make me feel bad about myself, but admittedly, make me realize that she is right after a while. But still, I feel horrible.
Will BRA (he initials documents he sends out this way, I heard) do that? Maybe, I don't know. I'm not expecting so much; I haven't even seen him since he officially became president. I can't even approach him during the cocktails a few weeks back. The Chancellor is a great person, he calls me iha and even anak sometimes (which is funny, cause he's just as old as Papa), but I'm not getting that much direction or empathy from him yet. I need that badly. I'm the youngest of his direct reports. I'm a one-woman office. I need support.
--- --- ---
Lunch at home =D =D =D =D =D That makes me happy.
Badminton this afternoon. =D =D =D Workout FTW.
I was back home at past 10 in the evening. I forced dinner onto myself, on auto-pilot, waited for about an hour to let the food settle in, and pulled the sheets. A little tossing and turning, then bam. Sleep.
Today should be a fitting conclusion to this physically, mentally, emotionally draining week.
--- --- ---
I shouldn't be posting. But I am. I have no one else to talk to, save for myself. Brothers are sleeping. Laundry is being done. Nothing on the TV that sparks my interest at the very least. So, I write.
I'm tired. Like, really tired. I don't know how long I can last with this kind of schedule. In fact, I don't even know my own limits anymore (and I'm not being emo here!). It's like, I thought I reached my limit a few weeks back, but with each passing week, it's as if the limit never existed. The weeks pass by, the details of its days are all a blur to me, save for what is documented in my [office] diary and this LJ.
Is that a good or a bad thing?
I just have to remind myself all the time that today is the tomorrow that I feared yesterday. And, as long as I wake up to a new day, it's always an opportunity to make a difference.
I wish I can talk to someone about these things, and not get a lengthy sermon, or even an "I understand, that's normal" type of answer. At this point, I want someone to empathize with me; I want someone who can give me direction. When BroKen was still my boss he was that person. When I was in MP Lolopie was that person. Now in my mind, those shoes have yet to be filled.
Outside work, I don't think I have anyone I can count on. Even home isn't a safe haven (for me) to talk about work stuff. When Mama brings up work, she always brings it up at the wrong time, or she asks questions that I have given the answer twice or thrice or four times. When I bring it up, she says all of these negatives that make me feel bad about myself, but admittedly, make me realize that she is right after a while. But still, I feel horrible.
Will BRA (he initials documents he sends out this way, I heard) do that? Maybe, I don't know. I'm not expecting so much; I haven't even seen him since he officially became president. I can't even approach him during the cocktails a few weeks back. The Chancellor is a great person, he calls me iha and even anak sometimes (which is funny, cause he's just as old as Papa), but I'm not getting that much direction or empathy from him yet. I need that badly. I'm the youngest of his direct reports. I'm a one-woman office. I need support.
--- --- ---
Lunch at home =D =D =D =D =D That makes me happy.
Badminton this afternoon. =D =D =D Workout FTW.