I’m really, really deeply irritated and frustrated at the moment.
I already pointed out in my IWSG post this month that my life is seriously preventing me from getting any writing done. (Also worth noting is that I haven’t had a chance to actually write my own blog posts since then.)
And some of you have given me the advice that I should be enjoying my life instead of wasting it worrying about writing.
Which would be a valid point. Except that I was being nice in my IWSG post because I don’t like moping.
I still don’t, but let’s just say that half of March is gone and… well… The life that has been intruding on my writing wasn’t good.
As in, I’ve been under insane work hours basically since January. I’ve been under pressure for things I largely aren’t responsible for, for the better part of two and a quarter years now.
This month alone, I’ve put up with a whole lot of SHIT from people. I’ve been spending weekdays working sixteen hour days on things that for the life of me I can’t find anything to show for. I’ve spent the past week mostly either crying or suffering from a migraine as a result of crying. Which sucks because the thing about migraines is that they make me want to cry.
In the meantime, I haven’t written a half of what I want to write. I haven’t even started any of my marketing activities for my book release (which, you know, is a problem given that that’s a bit more than a month away). I haven’t really done anything except cope on survival mode for weeks now.
Which, you know, is just an amazing mood to be in when trying to write in the five minutes you have to write. (In cased you missed it, that was oozing with sarcasm.)
I’m tired of seeing the way clearly marked out in front of me, but not being given the chance to even take a single step.
I’m tired of the fact that when people say I should enjoy my life, I can legitimately say that I currently can’t because time is being taken up by so much bullshit that I physically can’t do the things I enjoy.
I’m so tired.
And while I understand that my day-job (which is the single largest cause for disruption of my writing time) is supposed to help me keep going long enough to function as a writer (being a starving artist is sooooooo last year, daaaaaahling), it’s definitely not conductive to me writing when my 24 hours are split between 12-16 hours of work and 8 hours of sleep almost every week day. And any other time is spent discussing work with my family (because we all work very closely together).
Which again, wouldn’t be an issue in the short term (as this situation is supposed to be), if I could only but find something I did in those hours that made me feel like… Oh wow. I did something awesome today.
No, the last time I felt that way was more than a month ago.
So no. When I say life is getting in my way, I’m not talking about friends staging interventions and taking me out to see a movie. This isn’t the normal, average “oh no, I have too much to do” kind of moping (you know, when people are good-naturedly “complaining” because they have an awesome family to spend time with, who insist on them spending time together, or complaining about “I have no time”, but spending hour after hour wasting the time they actually had). I mean my life is currently literally dragging me down and knocking me out in a way that I know isn’t healthy.
*Takes a niiiiiice deep breath.*
But the good news is that Monday, Friday and Monday are all public holidays, so I’ll have a bit more time.