low blood-sugar

Today got difficult after a pretty good start. Had to work late…I don’t like when I have to stay on campus after a late lecture. That got me kinda pissy, but it was manageable. Walking home the voices seemed to be interested in me (ego boundaries were worn thin), and I got defensive. Lots of them were ostensibly supportive (as is usual), but that doesn’t matter when I’m not wanting to be touched. And it’s weird that most of that supportive stuff shows up when I’m already pulling away because of some bullshit. Something I’ve said about abusive girlfriends before is, “They always get way nicer when you talk about leaving.”

I think some of it is being emotionally drained from teaching for 3 hours straight, and some of it is having low blood-sugar. I’m working on getting down to a healthy BMI. It’s a pretty aggressive approach (a pretty serious caloric deficit), so it does have an impact on my mood.

Talked to the chair of my department today, and he’s hoping they can hire me back full time again next year. I told him I’m open to that idea. He said, “You’re probably looking for tenure-track positions.” I’m not. I’ve given up on tenure-track research gigs, and don’t really want a tenure track teaching position. I want to do something else. Something more independent. Right now I want to get paid as a writer. I’m sure I’m idealizing that job and that it would be a fucking grind once I was in it, but damn if it doesn’t sound better than teaching. The transition is going to be difficult, though. If my paid job was less emotional exhausting (and ideally part time), then maybe I could start to transition.

Living in a country with guaranteed health-care so I could sustain myself on part-time work would make a big difference. As would having some passive income in USD, and living in a country with a lower cost of living. Or a remote job that pays in USD.

I get torn between still wanting to work on climate change somehow, and wanting to make enough money to be independent and write. I recently went back over some notes that Rob Knight once gave me on an essay I had written, and I was devastated by the realization that he was trying to be my friend. The opportunities I’ve wasted by being a mentally ill drug addict threaten to overthrown me sometimes. I know I’m lucky to be alive and to have the time left that I do, but goddamn. It’s hard when I see what could have been.