Day One Hundred Thirteen

I had a bad night. My anxieties kept me awake, so I arose foggy, angry, dejected and exhausted. I wanted to go to work for the sake of maintaining my pride in doing a good job, even in these farcical end days of my time at Goldman Sachs. But in the end I couldn’t bring myself to care, and so I took a mental health day.

I wish I could say that I used it well, but damn it, I couldn’t even catch up on sleep the way I wanted to: the anxieties kept swirling in my head. I got through quite a good chunk of Vernor Vinge’s _A Deepness in the Sky_, and that’s as close as I came to being useful.

I was feeling too despondent to get out for groceries, so I failed to get enough fiber. Worse, three of my five meals were Zone Bars. In short, my caloric and nutritive intake was fine, but my sugar and fiber intake was not sensible.

But you know what? I’m still feeling proud. I may not have been Mr. Nutrition today, but still ate five small, evenly-spaced meals, and I steadfastly refused to overeat in the face of my stupid ennui and anxiety. That refusal has become something more than an agonizing chore; it’s grown into a rock in the stream of my spirit, and now, wonder of wonders… I’m drawing strength from it instead of pouring energy into it.


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