All Work, No Play

Wow. I just powered through five twelve-hour night shifts, which is never an easy feat. I've felt like a zombie nearly the entire time, making my way through each night as if I'm one of the walking dead. I'm pretty sure, by the end of last night's shift, my eyes were glazed over from total lack of sleep; my pupils fixed and dilated just like a neuro case gone bad. My throat hurts. My back aches. Even more depressing is the way my feet and ankles have morphed into the ever-so-attractive tankle-ish look. But, despite the wear and tear on my body, and my complete and utter exhaustion, I feel good. I feel useful and accomplished. I finally did exactly what I came out here to do - work hard.

I knew this is what I needed, less play and more work. It's a rare occasion when I feel this way, but too much idle time can sometimes be my enemy. Early last week, I caught myself slipping into a deep funk. I just couldn't shake the loneliness of missing my Mouse and my life back in Denver. Self-doubt had set in, making me wonder if I had made the right decision in coming back to SoCal. Not that my feelings weren't valid, or my introspection absurd, but I definitely had way too much time to brood. So, I did the most logical thing I could. I threw myself into work.

One week later, here I am, exhausted but content. I'm too tired to worry about the "what ifs". And I'm actually relieved to have a bed all to myself. (And by bed, I mean either air mattress or camp cot, depending upon which friend I'm bunking with.)

So this is my new plan. I'm going to keep myself so busy I won't have time to think about all the negatives. I'm going to work. I'm going to run. And I'm definitely going to make sure I have things planned on my off days. (Oh - and I definitely have some fun husband-and-puppy-filled weekends in the works.) If I can keep that up, my thirteen weeks will be up before I know it. Yup, I can definitely do this.