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Is It Jet Lag Or Something More Insidious?

Is It Jet Lag Or Something More Insidious?

Why do I just now feel like the year is finally starting?

I just came home from a trip back to Indiana for my grandfather’s funeral.

Visiting my hometown always flips the reset switch on my body—even now, on my third day back in Los Angeles, I’m not feeling quite myself. Jet lag or the weird cold I picked up on my travels? Both.

Or maybe it’s just the lingering discomfort of the plane trip back to California, where the young man next to me held his phone, ID, and passport in between his thumb and middle finger and stared blankly ahead for hours on end. At one point, he dropped his phone, picked it up, then slowly rubbed it on each arm and all over his chest. And right before we landed, he began sucking on his fingers. One at a time.

So yeah, I’m feeling a little unsettled.

I’m acting like I’m going to roll into May with a fiery, go-getter attitude. Like I’m unstoppable. But the truth is, I'm having a hell of a time being anything but stopped. #allstoppedup

How do you bridge the energy gap between where you are and what you want to do? I’ve got eighteen trails I want to follow, all no more specific than “write a sketch,” and it’s difficult to come up with anything more detailed. And I thrive off of highly specific plans.

So let’s just call May 1st the start of my new year.

At work, I’m energized and organized—I have an editorial calendar that tells me what to do, when to do it, and who’s helping me handle it. I have a planner where I jot down my largest tasks of the day and happily cross them off as I work through them.

But at home, I’m depleted and robotic. (And again, I ask you—is this just jet lag or something more insidious?) I wander around my small apartment, untethered and fluttering between one task or another. Occasionally, I’ll ask Victor, “what should I do? Tell me what I should do!” It’s very fun.

But really is this just who I am?

Ever since I’ve identified myself as an Enneagram Type 4, I’ve been noting my dramatic tendencies. Embracing them, really, because they can be hilarious.

But this dramatic melancholy often spills over into self-indulgence, and it takes so much energy for me to backpedal and get back on track.

So this month, I’m going to throw myself into frivolous self-care: wandering outside for no reason, practicing excessive skincare and grooming habits, wearing clothing that hardly matches just for kicks. Playing, in moderation, Bejeweled on my phone because it lights my brain the frick up.

And I’m not going to force my creativity.

Because, like jet lag, it may just take a little while for me to get back into my groove after some real shitty disruptions. I’m going to bundle up the first four months of this year, give em a kiss and a swift kick in the pants, and move forward into 2019 as if it’s fresh.

As if it’s welcoming me with possibility.

Letting Go Of My Old Blog

Letting Go Of My Old Blog

We Painted Our Apartment Pink

We Painted Our Apartment Pink