I’ve just about decided June is not my month.
I can’t bring myself to give up on the month entirely, as my anniversary is in June. So good things have historically happened in this month. But this year’s June is sucking. Last year’s, engagement aside, wasn’t so hot either. I’ve had not one but two miscarriages in June. (Not this June. Or last June. If you’re counting.) June’s scales are definitely tilted towards suck, in other words.
Anyway. I knew things were going to be rough this month, with R and I both starting new jobs — on the same day, even. But these past few weeks have gone beyond anything I’d expected. Rejections and losses and failures, big and small. Not that I’m a stranger to rejection. And I of course understand that part of a new job, a new routine, is screwing up. If it were just my job I could blow it off. But I feel like I’m failing spectacularly at pretty much everything I attempt lately.
Except my web editor job — I had finally hit my stride with that. And then the company went under.
The relentless pace at which the hits have been coming have me curled up in a metaphorical ball. Okay, the PMS and peri-m aren’t helping. But still.
I’ve kept up the meditation — sometimes I even meditate twice a day. It’s not really helping. Or maybe it is, and I would be off the rails otherwise. At any rate, it helps put the kids to sleep in pretty short order, and has also kept me from taking up smoking again, so I suppose it’s not a total waste of time.
Not eating or sleeping much. I knew about the sleep, but I thought I was eating enough until just a little bit ago, when I noticed after nibbling a couple of graham crackers that my headache had gone away.
Angst. Do I ever get old enough to get a break from the angst?