Very tired.

Tired does all sorts of nasty things to my emotions and brains. They both go wacko. Not a pretty sight. I crave the mythical properties of Prozac. I want my eyes to stop stinging with the tears just behind them. I want my throat to stop tensing and choking my voice. I want to be able to compete a sentence without having to start over four times because I forgot where I was in the thought thread.

I become very thin-skinned and develop these 3-foot-long pricklies at the same time. No one can win. Look at me cross-eyed and my depression tail-spins down a new slope. My nose gets out of joint at every imagined slight. And the depression dives further down the slope.

I know if I can just get a full nights’ sleep, I will feel better emotionally and my brain will at least be able to see the humor and balance in life as I struggle to process information overload.

I hope.

Another aspect of the emotional thing is that I get to jonesing family and friends I don’t get to see very often these days. It can get to be physical pain that whams my chest when a scent or a color or a sound brings them close to mind.

Not a good time to have a less-than-stellar annual review at work. It wasn’t all that bad, but it is the first less-than-steller I have received here. I did not deliver on one of my goals. While it was not wholly within my ability to deliver it in the first place, (reliance on other quirks, personalities, and departments affected that part), I still feel guilty I didn’t do better, push it farther along, or some other Syssiphian lunacy that sleep deprivation fosters.

Good thing I have puppies to help me, because there is no way a human could handle this pit of a pity party. Sleep. Sleep is the ticket.