Where Is My Excitement Hiding? Instead, I Can't Stop Crying

Originally Posted on Medium

Before the pandemic, I went out a lot. Working in the city it was perfectly normal to go to the pub at lunch or after work, when the weekends came, I preferred being at home as I'd been out all week.

Going out was such an everyday thing, it wasn't really fun anymore and when a big birthday event came along, I didn't look forward to It. Now, I tend to do my going out at the weekends like a normal person and I have started to look forward to those nights out again, I can think about what I'm going to wear and spend some time getting ready.

On Saturday, I woke up at 7 am, excited for a morning to chill out. I sat down and looked at my calendar. 9 am - Intervals. Oh, bugger. I'm doing cardio today. My brain starts to make excuses but I ignore them. It's happening. I'm doing it. No excuses.

And I did.

Did I enjoy it? Absolutely not. I couldn't find my sports bras, so just wore a crop top. After trying some of the jumpy moves I decided to do the low-impact options to save myself from black eyes.

After 25 minutes, mostly of me swearing at the screen, I was a sweaty mess. I had done it, but I didn't miraculously fall in love with cardio as I had hoped. I still hate cardio, and cardio still hates me.

After a cold shower, I sat down to write. I had left one thing from yesterday and it wouldn't take me long.

I type it all up on Evernote on my IPad then remember something I wanted to check so I go on the internet, when I come back to Evernote moments later, there are only one paragraph shows.

Huh?

The undo button isn't working, there is no history of what I've just written FFS. I scramble around trying to recover my work, but it's gone. It was only a few hundred words, but still, I'm annoyed. There is something bizarre going on with the electricals in my house, and it's getting on my nerves.

I eventually get what I need to do done and I enjoy spending time getting ready for a night out.

We have a great night out in The Boatyard for a friend's birthday, we're up dancing and singing with the brilliant young singers. On Sunday morning, I wake up, knowing we have to do it all again. We're off to our friend's house for part 2 of their birthday celebrations.

It's such a brilliant day and night, they have asked the singers from the night before to perform (Sam Fraser - check him out!) it's such an amazing day with lovely people and I stop at one point and say to the husband that we are very lucky to have such a fantastic friendship group.

Monday, I do not feel particularly grateful, more groggy. I know I have a lot to do, not only for the writing but also for the holiday, and I just can't seem to kickstart the day. Eventually, I force myself into the shower in a desperate attempt to liven myself up. It works, kind of.

I settle down to carry on with my true crime post and realise too late that it's a lot more involved than I first thought, I decided to write a separate post about podcasts in the meantime, I don't want to rush the post.

Tuesday, I feel more awake but somehow less motivated, I think I am overwhelmed at the amount of stuff I have to do still before going on holiday. The husband finally gets the suitcases out of the loft and I find that mine is full of summer clothes I forgot about. Oops.

My motivation makes brief attempts to come back but I can't seem to keep a hold of it, I've got too many things to be thinking of. On Wednesday, I manage to have a short lie-in. I know that my sleep pattern is going to be up in the air when I am on holiday, so I need to make the most of it while I can.

I force myself to the shops to return parcels full of holiday clothes that I don't need, my mind just feels like a constant spinning wheel of thoughts and to-do items and I can't seem to stop it, it eventually leads to a bout of tears which is needed.

I get myself to bed after Love Island, no matter how much I do in the week leading up to the holiday, there are always those last-minute bits that can't be done, well until the last minute.

Thursday does not bring a lie in, it brings buckets of anxiety. I decided that today I absolutely must spend ten minutes in silence and allow my thoughts to come and go before I do anything else.

It was just ten minutes spent thinking of all the things I still had to do, so when I finished, I wrote it all down, despite having it on an app on my phone, I just needed it out of my head. It worked, it gave me a bit of space.

The husband's family are having dinner Thursday evening and I know I just won't be able to go, I have so much to do and rushing around will make me miss something and we have an early start the following day so I tell him I don't think I can get all the stuff I need to do in time. Luckily, he is fine with this and understands.

I'm also extremely hormonal. Auntie gives no f*cks about holidays and wants to join me, so I cry repeatedly about minor things, such as a badger being rescued on TV, knocking an entire bottle of nail polish remover over and recreating my very own scene from home alone.

I keep reminding myself that by the time everyone is reading this, my to-do list will be completed, and I will officially be on holiday. Hopefully, I won't be crying on the plane. ♥️