To Adult or Not to Adult

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I didn’t write at all yesterday. I am so, so behind on my writing for the month, but I really can’t seem to work up the dedication to get any real writing done. I was trying to come up with something based on some prompts I saw and there was just… nothing. Part of it is that it’s hard for me to get any time alone. I’m just constantly surrounded by people either because I’m at work or because I’m out with friends or because at least one of my family members is always home. Always. Constantly. Home. I am desperate for them to go away for a little while. Not for long, or anything. And it’s my own fault I that I haven’t been responsible or dedicated enough with my fiances to get a place of my own and move out. Had I been more diligent, I could have been mostly out of debt after working those years at Scholastic, but I didn’t and this is the price I’m paying.

 

It’s also the working out thing. I love it, don’t get me wrong. It’s definitely important that I exercise for a myriad of reasons and I have found that I do actually like it which I never expected would be a thing. But it’s 75 minutes most weekdays at the gym plus 30 - 40 minutes extra in the car and the necessity of taking a shower after when I used to only shower three days a week or so. That means that I spend twice the amount of time in the shower a week than I would have and since I’ve never been great at taking quick showers, that tends to be a lot of time.

 

The other downside is that I sleep less because even though I’m getting up so much earlier, I never really feel like going to bed any earlier. Sure, occasionally I slip in a nap that I might not have in the past, but otherwise, I’m going to bed at about the same time and getting up two to two and a half hours earlier in the morning.

 

I don’t want to give it up though, I really don’t. That feels like the closest thing I get to “me time” any more. And it’s nice to listen to books while I use some of the machines. It’s funny because sometimes I get so into the book that I forget to stop doing whatever it is. I think I tend to do more reps when I get sucked into a book. The motions are repetitive so instead of stopping when I count to ten (or whatever) I end up going until fifteen or twenty. I don’t mind that at all. I haven’t hurt myself or anything and I feel like I’ll get more out of it if I push myself a little harder. I do try to be careful not to get too caught up though since I definitely don’t want to end up injuring myself.

 

The reading addiction isn’t helping either. I think I’m using books to get away from the low-grade anxiety I’m feeling about the Summer Break stuff, the Performance Review I’m about to undergo, and the Digital Proficiencies modules I have to pass. I know that’s not the best way to deal with my unpleasant emotions but, well, there you go. I’m hoping once I get started on the Summer Break stuff, I’ll settle a little more.

 

I told myself I wasn’t going to set a reading goal for the year. I didn’t want to give myself any reading assignments. But my brain is what it is and because it doesn’t want to deal with goals it is afraid of like writing original fiction again, setting clear budgeting goals and getting out of debt, figuring out what I want out of my personal life i.e. do I want to start dating again and if so how do I want to go about doing that, and deciding whether or not I will come out to my parents at some point in my life, it’s pushing me to read a crazy, unhealthy amount of pages instead.

 

I know I need to deal with this stuff. Even if it’s just one thing at a time, but I just don’t think I can do that until after my nervousness over the SUmmer Break stuff calms down. Or the whole thing is over. That works too.

 

*Sigh* I both do and don’t want to be a grown up. It’s complicated.