Three Things Thursday: I’m tired

On my walk yesterday, I forced myself to come to terms with how tired I’m feeling. I know by admitting this, I risk turning this blog into one of those early aughts Live Journal confessionals. And I really don’t want to do that, but I’m tired.

People who follow this blog have a pretty good sense for why I’m tired. The last month of the semester was brutal: my dad’s passing, my book manuscript being due, and the usual end of the semester (and end of the academic year) push to get things done while looking ahead and ramping up for travel during my summer research leave.

The texture of this fatigue is interesting though. For this week’s three thing Thursday, I want to try to disentangle it a bit.

Thing the First

Travel is always tiring and I’m not a great traveler. I get myself all stressed out about things that I can’t control in the week before I travel and fail to enjoy the miracle of air travel, the amenities of airports, or the careful vigilance of our safety and border control officers. As a result, I’m physically tired when I embark and even more tired when I arrive at my destination. It typically takes me the better part of a week to recover from international travel and that does something crazy with my body. Before I left for the Mediterranean, I was “running” (more of a bouncy walk, but whatever) 20-25 mile per week without much problem. Here in Cyprus, I’ve slowly labored my way through 12-15 miles weeks. My body protests every step with new twinges and aches, my legs are heavy, and my breathing and heart rate vacillate from being inadequate to power my movement or out of control.

On top of that, I sleep poorly, my blood pressure is high, and my resting heart rate — which shows little variation during the week — bounces up and down. I don’t feel refreshed in the morning and I’m usually exhausted my early evening. 

These feels are unpleasant but interesting in that they are so … somatic? So real? So physically textured and measurable. I don’t want to say that I enjoy them, but every day becomes a new adventure in how my body might hurt, refuse to respond, or behave unpredictably. I also smashed my smallest toe into a piece of furniture and almost certainly broke it. It hurts.

Thing the Second

The great heavyweight boxing champion Oleksandr Usyk is known to distinguish between motivation and discipline. He says motivation relies on emotion. When you feel motivated to work out, you work out, but if you don’t feel motivated, maybe you don’t work out. (This is best imagined with a very heavy Ukrainian accent). When you’re disciplined, you work out no matter how you feel. 

I aspire to being disciplined and I know that my time on research leave is fleeting. That means when I’m here in the Mediterranean, I do work. The days when I could work 12+ hours days are long past (and were probably less efficient than I imagine them to be) but I still do my best to push myself to get work done even when I’m unmotivated.

This summer, I’m spectacularly unmotivated (more on this in a minute) and my discipline is wavering. Writing has become a chore, project management is unfocused, and things feel cattywampus (and that is never a good thing when dealing with archaeology). I’m recognizing that for the first time in over 20 years, I can’t just switch gears and change my scenery to discover some new reserve of energy. 

That said, I’m going to keep slogging away and making slow progress. It is an interesting challenge. The resistance to even simply analytical tasks feel like wading through molasses. 

Thing the Third

The most bizarre part of my fatigue is that it has made even things that I enjoy — like photography — seem oddly dull and uninspired. I am taking photos on my daily walks, but they’re pretty uninteresting. Some are hackneyed. Some are cliche. And many are poorly executed and technically flawed (but not in an interesting way).

It’s disappointing because I’ve enjoyed taking photographs so much lately, but I’m feeling oddly detached from my practice. My discipline is still there (I’m taking photos), but the emotional resources that I draw upon to shape my own creativity, discern something positive, or even enjoy myself are simply empty. These feelings have made clear to me how much a sense of emotional awareness drives my photography (and “creative process” whatever that means in my case).  

However interesting the texture of my current state is, I’m eager for it to pass.