Short Weekend

I’m contemplating Monday with a degree of alarm, mostly centred around how quickly it’s arrived back on my doorstep. Today has slipped past and through my fingers, like fine sand. Even though I’ve completed the front page design work mentioned yesterday though, it still feels like a wasted day.

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In part this is fuelled by some small teasing from Lady M about how long I’m taking to wrap up the novel so I can start hawking it round and trying to get an agent. While it was well-meaning, it did tap into some insecurities that the depression has kicked up, and dovetail with an awareness that I haven’t written up this week’s session and hadn’t prepared anything for Monday night’s game.

One anxiety bout later, I did at least manage to prepare some maps and thumbnail sketched some possible sea-borne encounters for my Monday group. As it’s late here now, I’ll just have to write two sessions this week.

Tomorrow also sees week three of the computer basics course that I teach roughly once per quarter. This week is the often gruelling email session, though one person is a whole week behind, so I’m expecting to be a bit wrung through by the end of it. Unfortunately, with such a wide base of aptitudes, skills and experience between my students it’s  proving difficult to judge how quickly they are likely to pick things up. I’m sure I’ve muttered darkly about it before now.

So on the one hand I have people singing my praises about artwork created, adventures provided and customers engaged, and on the other I’m feeling a failure and burden to those around me for not managing to deliver constant awesomeness, being a bit clingy and not focus on what’s important. I’ve even apologised to Lady M for having an anxiety freakout and not being able to explain why.

I know it’s the black dog, that it’s irrational and that I’m being way too hard on myself; it doesn’t seem to make things any easier. I know things will improve, and I’m working to make that happen as best I can, mostly by constantly challenging all the negative ironclad assumptions my miswired brain can throw at me.

The big one right now is the thought that I am essentially unlovable, despite all empirical evidence to the contrary. Might as well go large on the challenges, right?

About Tim Maidment

Writer, House Husband, Raconteur and Bon Vivant
This entry was posted in D&D, depression, family, gaming, Geekery, letting off steam, mental health, worries and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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