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Writing Helps

I think I am too tired to be alive.

For those who don’t know, I’m a nurse at a long term care facility.  I work evening shift (3 to 11) part time (four days a week) and my schedule varies: this past week I was off on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.

On Friday I dragged myself to work and found out that one of my residents had deteriorated rapidly since Monday.

Friday night into Saturday I stayed up too late.  And by “late” I mean that I went to bed around 4:00 in the morning.

Saturday I dragged myself to work.

Saturday into Sunday was the time change, and on top of losing an hour I didn’t sleep well.  I woke up two or three times and when I did sleep it wasn’t deep and was more like waking dreams.  Weird dreams.  The kind of dreams that make you doubt your sanity.

Sunday I dragged myself to work and found out that another of my residents had gone downhill since the night before.

And in the course of my shift I found that another had done the same.

A long time ago I coined a phrase that describes me right now: “pemmed out.” It stands for Physically, Emotionally, and Mentally exhausted.

And I get to drag myself to work again today.

I’m half tempted to go to bed without doing any writing, but it is times like this that writing is needed.

I need to lose myself in the world I’ve created, interact with the people who live in it, let my emotions color the story.

And the emotions fit the scene that I’m writing.

One character is dead: another is mourning him and trying to come to terms with his death and his part in it.

One character is critically injured: another is watching over him and trying to come to terms with his injury, the death of the other, the turmoil of another, and a few other things as well.

One character is pragmatic enough to know that he can’t do anything about any of the above so he’s going to sleep so at least one person is able to function the next day.

One character is reluctantly going to go lie down but will spend what’s left of the night awake and worrying.

And in the morning they all have to explain to a five year old what happened.

It sort of puts my problems into perspective.

 

 

 

 

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Friday Already?

Back to work for me today.

Why do days off go by so fast and days at work go by so slowly?  Seriously, three days off and I feel like it was only one day.  I’m scheduled for four in a row and they will take three weeks to pass.

As usual, my days off were less productive than I’d hoped.  I did get the rat cage cleaned, and I kept up the thousand words a day, but barely.  I was hoping to have at least a 3000 word cushion by now, but, well, time got away from me.

Again.

As usual.

And to make matters worse, this weekend we set the clocks ahead, so I’ll “lose” an hour of either sleep or writing time.  Fortunately, I work evening shift, so the switch isn’t as bad as it could be, but still, I seriously hate time changes.  They mess with my internal clock and it takes me about two weeks to adjust.

I’ve always been that way with time changes (in both directions) and until recently I just naturally thought that everyone was affected by them.  But a week or so ago I was reading a thread on a cross stitch message board that was talking about the time change, and was surprised to learn that some people aren’t bothered by them at all.

Time in general is weird for me.

I’m good at getting to places when I should: it’s bigger pieces of time that I have trouble with.

For instance, I can tell you when I need to leave to get to work on time, but plan for Christmas? Ha!  That sucker sneaks up on me every year.

Rather like the end of my days off…

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