RBF

I have five stages of exhaustion. 

The first stage is sleepy. It's a mild stage, easily cured with a cup of coffee or three. Lately, this has been the main stage of existence. It's not a hard one to handle, so I've gotten used to it. 

The second stage is resting bitch face. My attitude is still the same. I'm still happy and sarcastic, but I've lost the ability to control my face. While I might be saying, "No, no, don't worry about it.  I'll take care of it.  Easy." My face will be saying, 'Really? I have to do this now, too? Great.'  To fix this, I have to constantly remind myself to 'fix my face' and drink more coffee. Coffee saves the world. 

I know I'm entering into the third stage when I'm failing at fixing my face. I know that because people start asking if I'm okay. They tend to stop asking when I officially reach stage three: resting bitch attitude. I don't usually get this this far into the cycle. It's the point of no return. Im so exhausted and just plain grumpy, but I can't sleep. My body won't let me. I just lay there, eyes closed, trying to will myself into sleep. But I can't. I have to finish the cycle. So, for anyone who encounters me during stage, go the other way. 

This morning, I entered stage four. I was up at four fifteen to coffee automatically brewing. That is seriously the best way to wake up, especially at this stage. Bounce out of bed, spill creamer on the counter, grab a cup and get ready in record time. This is the listen to musicals and 90s music and sing at the top of my lungs between fits of self-administered giggles stage. This is the most fun I've had in weeks. It's the elevator drop right before it stops. 

...and then it stops. Then I enter the final stage. Where I fall asleep as soon as I run out of fuel. In my car outside my apartment. In the tub. At my desk. On the floor...right next to my bed. In the closet, finding pajamas. I just run out and stop. This stage doesn't even have a name. It's just the end. I will finally get rest. I will sleep for 15 hours straight and I will be me again. 

I hope I can put that stage off for a while today... As comfortable as this room is becoming, I have to work until about 7pm. 

typical

Once again, I had such high, high hopes for the day. Last night, after a glance at my calendar, I curled up and set my alarm for 20 minutes later than usual.  

That never happens. 

-

That was last week. I haven't even had time to finish a post! No events scheduled for three days lead to down to staff and about to be down three. That means my brain is a skip's scramble. My body is running on empty. Caffeine isn't enough. I wonder if this is how some people start doing drugs...like Liv Tyler's character in Empire Records. 

Calm. Deep breaths. I'll be home three and a half hours. I won't have a 12 or 14 hour day today. It'll only be ten. 

My stomach is screaming at me. This is the only time I've slowed down enough to be able to hear it for days. In ten minutes, when I have to start running around again, it'll be silent again. Well, not silent, just unheard. 

Emails are going ignored. I'm not ignoring them, I just haven't been in my office long enough to have an answer. I wish I could just say that, but I can't. I can't promise I'll have the information tomorrow, or Friday, or even by Monday. 

My desk is, once again, a hot mess. Not that I get much time to sit there to be bothered by it. 

I can't even be coherent anymore. I'm easily distracted as it is, but I would always be able to hop back into my sentence right where I left off. Now, I just stare. Stare and forget I was even speaking in the first place. 

I've been blonde for a year now. I think. My timeline has been muddled lately, too. This weekend, with this mess, I dyed my hair the darkest red. I chopped it off. Four inches: gone. I gave myself bangs. I switched from brown to black eyeliner. None of these things I noticed until this moment. This one moment of calm. None of these things will I remember once I grab my keys and run out the door again. 

Five minutes. 

My eyes are drooping. My skin is pale. My skin is always pale, but blush and a little bronzer used to bring me to life, now they make me look like I'm on display at the mortuary. 

Three minutes. 

If I just had time for a nap. Just one nap, short and sweet, I'd be good to go. Maybet circles would lighten. 

Two minutes. 

My feet barely had time to relax. Time to shove them back into my heels. Where are my keys? Oh, under that stack of paper. 

One minute. 

Collapse.