sleep knits up the unravelled sleeve

Work has been busy for a good month, and I've been fine, but I'm starting to crack.

I'm coordinating the redesign and launch of our new corporate website. And because I'm the writer/communications gal, I'm also writing all the copy, updating and managing the review process for three manuals, redoing all our graphics, helping direct a Flash demo, editing the press release, etc.

With the long hours, and the tight deadline, I have had trouble managing the basics: eating healthy food, getting enough exercise and sleep. Dishes? I eat whatever I can from the container. Laundry? Hey man, I just be sure to smear a little extra deoderant on my pits. One thing I'll insist on is fresh undies, but I've got a plentiful supply for now.

Yesterday I went for dinner with my friends Ralf and Chris. Normally these guys make me laugh all the time. Chris because he's very silly and clever, Ralf because he's odd and smart and basically willing to say everything he thinks, whether or not it's offensive. They rib me all the time, I rib them back, it works.

OK, so last night, I ran out of humour and straight through the wall of fatigue into a subtle internal hysteria. Ralf made some crack (and I don't mean that he heated some cocaine in a baking soda and water solution), Chris laughed, and I should have laughed, but I realized to my horror that tears had sprung to my eyes. What'd he'd said in jest started me thinking about some things that I'm pretty sad about and because I was so tired, I JUST COULDN'T STOP. I didn't want them to feel bad or guilty, and I didn't want to make a scene, because it was so clear to me that it was the fatigue underlying it that was making me so fragile. So I managed to not quite cry at the table. I waited until I got back to the office and then had a quick sob in the privacy of my cubicle on the almost empty floor.

Last night I slept a good 10 hours, and napped again this afternoon. I'm feeling a little more normal now, even though I'm back in the office again and it's a Saturday night. I don't mind crying and I think it's a dangerous idea to think you're supposed to be happy all the time, but I'm not fond of feeling so on the edge.