On February 13, I returned from 2 weeks in the Caribbean.
Four days later, my mother passed away. I spent the next 10 days dealing with family and funeral preparations.
The day after the funeral, I was back in Toronto. Preparing for a musical obligation that I’d made 6 months prior. True, the performances were a lot of fun. But the preparation took every spare hour and drained me of all my energy.
The day after the performances, and for some of the preceeding week, I was back to 12-16 hours per day packing, moving, and working in between. Yesterday I left the house at 7:15am, and came home at 11pm in time to make dinner and pass out exhausted. And this will go on until at least Sunday.
Looking back, I haven’t had more than 2 hours for myself since I was in the Virgin Islands. I think I’ve hit the wall, but can’t stop yet. The palms of my hands tingle, and I’ve lost some of the feeling in them. I’m eating Advil for breakfast daily. I feel like shit. Shit.
Next week I will sleep. Hopefully.
Oh, and have I mentioned? While I’m working this hard, my finances are spiraling out of control. I’m debating on giving up on sailing to get a part-time job. All that work for minimum wage (likely for pt) is something I don’t know if I can bring myself to do.