Trough

Of course no sooner do I post my inventory, then I find myself circling round the drain of depression. Some of that might have to do with post birthday crash, and i'm certain that I've had a bug this week, but I don't think that's all of it. After all, I have a show opening tomorrow and lots of nice things are going on, but man I've felt sick, tired, spent, anxious, near tears and close to just that "giving it up" point. Which is, as I've stated, familiar enough that I know to ignore it, but painful enough that I'd just like to give in to it. Yes. Give up the volunteer gigs. Yes. Give up the extra hours producing and creating work that few will ever see and likely makes me look like a dork. Just resign yourself to middleaged life like a good girl. Yes, Jules, don't fight it, just let it go.

I won't. I haven't. But I hate this feeling, the self doubt as real to me as is my own reflection, but actually as much of a lie as a fun house mirror, and doubly confusing.

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