I’ve recently discovered that I haven’t been alive for these past two years. I have merely been existing. This came as a bit of a shock to me at first, but I suppose it’s understandable, given the circumstances I’ve sleep-walked into.
My parents offered me the money to do a Masters degree. Even 12 months later, that money wouldn’t be enough, what with tuition fee rises, so I took it. I needed a part-time job so I could eat, so I took the soft option and went back to The Cinema. My course ended, so I tried to leave The Cinema and ended up in a six-month temping Hell. And then I made the real mistake.
I quit temping to look for a permanent job. I could afford to languish on the dole until I got a permanent job, but The Cinema was recruiting again. So I figured more money couldn’t hurt. The difference was that I had moved house during the temping fling, and now the commute to The Cinema was 95 minutes. Assuming that I would get some kind of better job soon, I spent recklessly on a credit card. That meant that my monthly bills increased. Before I knew it, I had moved to another cinema in the chain, with a 105 minute commute, and was spending all the proceeds from a working week that I couldn’t afford to dip below 21 hours plus breaks. My job hunt was barely happening. This new site was very stressful and I allowed myself to engage with trying to improve the place. Suddenly all my waking time was being taken up with The Cinema. I got up, I went to work, I came home, I tried to vapourise my brain into submission so I could sleep, I started the cycle again.
I walked like a zombie through my days off, not being able to bring myself to any kind of creativity. Desperately craving validation, I’d spend a lot of time on facebook. I wasn’t writing, and I wasn’t even remembering. Seriously, I’ve forgotten so much in the last couple of years. This zombie existence plus a brain fried with insomnia has left my memory in shattered fragments. The only times I faded into life were when I was in active social company (thank God for wrestling and Dungeons & Dragons).
Now that I’m no longer walking through the grey mists if a mere existence, it’s time to take stock. Put in place the things that are important before I return to the world of work. Become myself again. I’m having a painful relationship with sleep at the moment, but I’m sure that will pass. Even so, I’ve taken the opportunity during some of the sleepless hours to read Sæmund Sigfusson’s Eddas, so I’m already starting to reconnect with parts of myself that I was losing. Normal service may well be resumed shortly.