The demons have been out in force this last week or so, nibbling at my toes all day and climbing on my pillow at night to whisper in my ear. Such nonsense, really, but I can’t get away when I am asleep and in the morning it is difficult to dismiss everything that’s been said.
Part of what has brought them out of the woodwork is that the end of the year is hurtling towards us out of the blue – it feels like it was only September five minutes ago. And that’ll be another birthday and another year gone in which I haven’t managed to finish my book. Which I find depressing – would easily find deeply depressing if I thought about it for too long. It is so important to me, far more important than any thing ought to be in a person’s life.
The demons are eager to point out my many other failings; things I meant to do, things I said I would do and didn’t get done or got done a whole lot later than I said I would. Meanwhile I am seriously behind on both electronic and paper correspondences. They tell me I am constantly fucking up and I am.
Looking after [...] has only compounded this feeling. It is hard enough work doing the necessary things, but I drop things, I spill things, I break things, I lose or forget about things. All this doubles the amount of time and energy it takes to do things like cooking a meal. And it is impossible not to curse myself because I might have applied a smidgen more attention at that particular moment in time and saved myself a load of work.
See, it is obvious why they are here. They are here because of approaching landmarks and feeling generally disorientated about the time of year. They are here because I am very tired, not sleeping well and having to push harder than I ought to. They are here because of a mild case of the unbloggibles. They are hear because of a few misunderstandings that have shaken me up a bit. And they are here because I have been spending money, which always makes me feel guilty.
Oh, I'll feel completely different in a few days.