How it can affect writing.
Tiredness is something I struggle with as a chronically-ill person. I know, for the most part, that whatever I do I will feel tired. After all, feeling tired is only human, but it does frustrate me when there are so many things I want to do. It’s ironic, as there is a lot going on in this blog. I’ve branched out into a few connected concerns.
I feel like I'm racing against my body clock — which is due to explode imminently. I know I've only got so many hours in the day before my body crashes. There is an element of anxiety that comes from this; I've only got so long. I do my best to pack everything I can into those hours. Somehow, I always feel exhausted, either physically or mentally — and sometimes emotionally.
The frustration I feel from always feeling tired results in me neglecting myself. And, in turn, the build up of stress makes me even more tired, because I know I haven't given myself enough time to rest throughout the week.
You can see a vicious cycle forming.
I am doing so much: I am writing, I am working, I'm going to the gym — and then potentially going to see friends, or going to events that I've been invited to.
While this is great — and something I appreciate very much — I annoy myself by not looking after myself (man of many talents, what I say).
Again, there are so many things I want to do. I feel like I have to crack on (faster and faster), before I run out of time or energy to do something.
I feel also there is an element of insecurity around resting itself. If I spend the afternoon, or day just chilling, I worry that I will be accused of being lazy and accused of being antisocial. A constant stress, bubbling away.
There is this narrative that many people my age (late teens, early twenties), don't do a lot with themselves — which may be true for some — but given the fact that we don't know their circumstances, we could do with being more compassionate.
Besides, young people have a lot on their plate. People younger than me are doing their GCSE and A-level exams… believe it or not, that is a lot to come to terms with and deal with at a young age. And that's without mentioning life outside of academic achievement. People older than me will scoff and say ‘everyone goes through that, why are we moaning?’
The fact is, we not moaning — or I'm not at least — I'm just stating that going to work is not the only thing that people struggle with, in terms of time and energy. Exams are an important part of anyone's life, because they can open doors.
I feel pressure from society to prove that I am a hard-working individual, and I don't sit there moaning as every so-called Gen Z supposedly does.
I have a brilliant work ethic, and want to see where the opportunities take me. In that sense, I feel a certain pressure from myself to keep writing because that's what I love, and I’m now an author. It has become a slight pressure and — taking in all my other stresses — it has become an immense pressure. But at the same time, it is something that I find cathartic. I am better able to express myself through the written word than any other medium.
I know I'm doing a lot, but writing is something that I have to keep up for my own sanity. In saying this, I do understand that I need to take better care of myself. It is a vicious cycle of feeling tired, getting more tired — briefly trying to recover — and then getting more tired once again.
It's very evident from what I've been talking about that I tend to take on the societal pressures of an entire generation — holding them on my shoulders both consciously and unconsciously. At the root of this is this need to prove myself. Prove that, as a chronically-ill person, I am not useless. I know that I am not incapable, but the fight is tiring.
As well as this, is the fact that the day job takes up a lot of my energy; so the amount of energy I have left for my side-hustles (if you want to call them that), is very small. With that comes the intrusive thought of ‘am I really trying my best, if the best I can do on an average day is post on social media about my books, how is anyone going to even take notice of me? Why or how is someone who could potentially help push my writing career further even bother to notice me?’
I remind myself that our best looks different every day, but nonetheless, the thought of ‘I could be doing more, I could be doing better’ always lingers. I'm not sure yet as to whether this is just part of being an ambitious person.
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