Rolling Fatigue

 Jesus Christ, how tired can one man get?

I succeeded at some brain reorientation when I was furloughed. This did not become apparent to me until I went back to work for Act II (Act I was the period from the date of hire to fucking covid furlough).

I went back in as a lion. Take no prisoners, eat no shit. I will not get into details but suffice it to say I am much more aggressive than I was during Act I. This has created much more peace for my beleaguered soul.

I am calm on the two nights preceding the early mornings. 5:30. Jesus, man - nobody should ever have to get up that early.

In the olden times I would stress out from early evening until bedtime. "Oh my god, I have to get up at 5:30. I fucking hate this. I fucking hate my life". Ruined those nights entirely.

Now I don't think about it. You can choose to disbelieve me, and I wouldn't blame you, but I do not think about it. I enjoy my nights and I go to bed whenever I want. Sometimes 11:30 or 12:00, never earlier than 10:30.

I still wake up at 3 or 4 and cannot get back to sleep, but instead of lying there furious at the world, I practice deep breathing. It rarely gets me back to sleep but it allows me to rest peacefully on my $15,000 mattress.

Here's the rub. I do wake up at 3 or 4. Seven days a week, consistently, since I reported for duty for Act II. It has created a rolling fatigue that accumulates and tries to incapacitate me. 

The fact I can even function blows my mind. I am literally the walking dead. Although I experienced a little crack in the facade, a chink in the armor on Wednesday.

Dealing with a customer at the end of the day and my brain shut down. Handling a simplistic transaction that I can normally do with my eyes closed - I almost didn't get through it. To the point that just printing out the documentation overwhelmed me. Got more and more angry until I said, quite loudly and distinctly - "what the fuck is wrong with this computer?"

The woman who has served as my mentor was standing close by. She punched me in the shoulder and touch-screened the right button. The document printed and I was saved.

Strange days indeed.

I have changed, no doubt. For the better. But still, a dark evil lurks just below my semi-equanimity.

I have this vision. If I was able to open up the top of my skull and allow all the worst thoughts to escape (forever), you would see hideous, abhorrent, and grotesque things flying erratically on broken wings towards the next dark destination.

And you would vomit.