I’ve written the last few diaries in barely-conscious state, trying hard not to fall asleep between one sentence and another. Which of course does not make for the most clear-headed narrative. Also yesterday I had this conversation with another freelancer who said that she identifies with this diary because it shows the ups and downs of an ‘unsecured’ life and does not avoid the days when things do not feel so great. So here I am at 2pm writing through the tail-end of a sugar crash, which for Greta, means the tail-end of feeling like the whole world is about to implode.
I got out of bed late-ish this morning, much needed after a late night and a week of long hours. My mind had been panicking about work so I naively skipped breakfast and went straight out. Bad move for Greta. I went to have passport photos taken in the hope that I can get my ID card sorted tomorrow (yes I need photos). I was feeling refreshed, calm, centred, happy, along with a host of other feel-good adjectives I could use there. Back out on the streets I got absorbed in walking and checking for updates in Streets of Valletta, the book I’m helping revise. I walked Ordinance, Melita, St Patricks and one or two other streets around the area. At some point I decided to call home to see what the others were up to. Even while calling I could feel that it was a bad idea and I hung up. They called back and news that they were about to go climbing in Valletta got me into a panic. I wanted to go with them, I needed to work, I wanted to go somewhere remote and I was being asked to decide. PANIC. I told them to ‘just do their thing’ and immediately got the inkling I might need to eat. Low blood sugar renders me completely unable to make any kind of decision that requires an ounce of brain power and I usually become angry + defensive + teary all at once. Not a good combination.
I walked back to an empty house (only after insisting I finish the street I was in though). Everyone had indeed done their own thing as I requested. I finally made myself breakfast and nursed my feelings with yoghurt followed with some ‘borrowed’ bread with peanut butter and honey. I wanted to go out in the sun, I felt I needed to work, I fell into a Facebook rabbit hole until I realised I was just blankly staring at my phone, standing up. I sat down to work and of course realised I did not have the files I needed to be able to. Which did not go down too well as you can imagine.
In the end I went for my most usual therapy: writing. I usually write in my big notebook but today my blog is my companion. I always feel lighter by the end of the page and can generally take myself and my ‘problems’ a lot less seriously than when I started. And I can feel it has worked.
Next step, drink my hot chocolate and drag my grumpy behind outside in the sun to see what adventures await. Work clearly has to wait for the time being.
