Sometimes we suffer from being part of a bad culture, and then we wake up to realise that we helped build it and we feel bad - very bad. This isn't a new thing, I shouldn't be surprised. Every time I have worn clothes deliberately aimed at making myself look thinner I have contributed to our stupid cult of women-bones. I have to be careful, because a blog is a public sphere, but to put things simply, I have contributed to some of the worst aspects of the place in which I work, and I have to see what I can do to change it.
I'm tired in a long-term kind of way - the tiredness of months. I haven't been on holiday for a couple of years. But these things are both my responsibility - no-one else's. The lack of someone to blame makes the tiredness more profound. I feel like my mind is dull, my edge is gone.
And underneath it all is a current of deep excitement. Here I am, once again, with nothing. I've reachd the limit of my own strength. My creativity has run out, and I am left a tired, stressed shell. I can't write lyrically any more because I am dry. Being in this place is freedom, because anything can happen. I could wake up tomorrow with purpose instead of mere drive.
I need my friends to help me. I don't want to be in this place once a year for the rest of my life. I told a friend yesterday that I was going to cut my overtime. She said "you told me that months ago", which is true. I want to change permanently. I need you to tell me when I'm being an idiot, and I need you to keep telling me that when I twist and turn and try to show you that it's just temporary, just one week of going the extra mile.
For months now I've let people down because I don't have time for them and I'm surprised there's anyone left.
Somehow when you realise you're rubbish and weak and that everyone has seen it even before you... you feel ok!