There aren't any words for this. I lean forward and squeeze my head to make it stop.
You've tried taking a nap but your foot won't stop shaking and your eyelids won't stop snapping open. Think about it. Think about it--what do you need?
I need a nap. I'm so tired.
The wall behind me has started shaking because of a vent in the building or something. My foot is still shaking but I can't shake it as fast as the wall. It's driving me crazy.
No, not crazy.
...I'm being oddly sympathetic with myself today. It's unsettling.
Maybe it's because now is not the time to be pushing yourself. Not the time at all. And besides, you have work in a little bit. You like work. You like the people you work with. How much more unsettling is that?
Jude chides in at this point:
Taking something for granted and taking advantage of something can easily be mistaken for the other.
Taking something for granted almost always produces regretful or even resentful feelings in the subject. For example, if the sun were to shine brightly all day, but one were to stay inside without knowing that the remainder of summer would bring rain or storms or possibly an alien invasion, then one would find oneself slouching in the rain or snow or falling martians, feeling regretful or even resentful for taking the previous day for granted.
On the other hand, if one were to take advantage of the sunny day, one may not feel as much sorrow in being showered with rain or pelted by hail or probed by aliens because at least they got a pretty decent tan.
So, to say the least, she immediately took advantage of this kindness, and within the next minute, she successfully retreated into the front of her mind. (The back, in her opinion, was not worth tidying up at this point.)
She settled in her sanctuary, a word which here means "a safe haven in which she could temporarily feel Nothing and not have Nothing berate her for it."
At least until you see the mountains again.