Some days it feels like pushing on Sisyphus’s stone, up a steep hill in the mud, as your feet slide backwards and you strain your muscles and brace your back against the thing.
I can feel myself slipping down the hill towards a black-dog mood, and that’s when I have to dig in my heels and keep pushing. And some days the stone rolls upwards and over, and some days I get tired and my arms give out and the thing just crushes me. I don’t know—today I’m slipping, but I’m not falling or down there at the bottom yet. I need to keep pushing.
(Unrelated to that, there’s this guy at work sitting next to me who keeps whistling and drumming his fingers and talking loudly to coworkers, and I want to throw something at him and I can’t because I’m the new hire. And that’s honestly the worst thing that’s happened to me today.)