Plodding. That's what I'm doing.
Creating lists of tasks for each day, starting at the top, working to the bottom then at about 10pm after completing the final thing, I'm writing a list to start the next day.
At least I'm being efficient, eh?
I can't work out whether this is due to being in limboland, or depression, or winter.
Limboland = MSc application/moving away from home/leaving the town I've made my town/starting to live independently. Half of me wants to aim for the Best Possible Places, half of me wants to apply to less well respected places which might understand I'm a bit quirky. But then most maths departments are full of people who are a bit quirky - if they weren't quirky, they wouldn't be mathematicians. 3 weeks today, I shall go to where I'd really like to get into for their open day and will work from there. Ideally, within the next 5 weeks I'll have applied. Then there's funding, accommodation, disability stuff (for instance, whether I'm going to be more physically disabled by then is a fairly pressing concern, whether I can find suitable MH support, whether I can keep my fabby specialist physiotherapist, even if it means trips home every few weeks...) before we even get to the "am I academically able?" crap.
[I have a first class honours degree, yes. I have a humongous love of the subject, yes. I've wanted to study beyond undergrad level since I was 5 years old, yes. I've not really had to try much yet though. It has come naturally. I hit a vague wall in middle of the second year of my degree, which I eventually leapt over and continued achieving. That can't continue forever.]
I'm just plodding. Getting everything done, not really thinking, not wanting to think. Weird audio/visual hallucinations are back, but I'm not really sleeping enough, so that's not any great surprise?
Plodding. Wishing I could get more hope out of my current situation, more excitement, more fun. But that is selfish. Sometimes life is just a bit... well... ploddish. And that should be OK. But it doesn't feel much like OK.
This might just be a reaction to grey skies.
This might just be a reaction to a new vicar moving into the vicarage this week - I can't help but know the "old situation" at church is over.
This might just be a reaction to bad joint pain.
This might just be a reaction to the crappy crappy politics of this country.
This might just be a reaction to an essay. Or a looming diploma. Or or or or or ORRR...
Plodding is fine. Plodding is easy really, I know what is expected, I do what is expected, I continue as per. I plod, I moan about plodding, I feel tired, but sometimes moaning/exhaustion is just what happens.
Plodding is fine so long as it doesn't get too quick. Then I end up burning out, past experience would suggest this would result in injury, psych wards and the like. I burnt out during my sixth form years, in spectacular form, 3 weeks before my final exams. I don't want/can't/won't let that happen again.
Plodding onwards. Consoling the grieving, watching out for the frail old ladies (and the near-miss accidental abductions which happen as a result... [long story...]), worrying for those I love, teaching the maths, doing the music, even baking the cake. Smiling vacantly too, at times. Or crying on buses (seriously, WTF was that about?)
Plodding. Funny really, I always thought plodding would suffice, thank you very much. Turns out I'm missing something.
Plodding. And wanting to go on a trudging forest walk to out-plod the plod, but being physically unable. Need to work out another way to out-plod the plodding then.
Oh, and to cheer things up a tad, my staunchly atheist cellist desk partner said to me this evening "If God had intended us to bake chocolate brownies, he wouldn't have invented M&S". Bravo, cellist, bravo.