Man, today I’m just not feeling it.
In fact, I really don’t feel like doing anything today. My old bones ache, and my thoughts seemed wrapped in a blanket of fog. I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way.
But I do.
I’m a little pissed at myself for feeling like this, but I’ll be damned if I can help it. You’d think after spending four straight days away from my side hustle, I would feel invigorated; have my batteries recharged and be ready to rock and roll.
But I don’t.
I keep wondering what the hell the deal is as I try to clear the cob webs out of my freaking brain, but all I want to do is, well, nothing.
I want to do nothing.
I’m thinking maybe I should just plop my ass in an easy chair and watch a bit of television until I grow damned near catatonic, but I know how that’ll end up. After about thirty minutes I’ll start telling myself I should be writing something.
If I sit too damned long I’ll start beating the shit out of myself about it.
I’ll start reminding myself I chose to make writing my first and foremost focus. I’ll tell myself I even committed publicly in an article I wrote on this very platform, right here on Medium, a few days ago.
Or was it weeks ago? Maybe last month?
Hell, I’ve written so much lately I don’t even remember anymore. Doesn’t matter. The point is my inner self will not let me sit in that fucking easy chair and become a mindless idiot.
It just won’t.
One side of my brain is telling me to get my ass to the office and start writing, but the other, the side which seems much more influential today, is telling me uh, no, don’t think so.
I’m tired of this constant battle raging in my head.
I’m tired of not seeming to have the gumption. I’m just, so, mentally fucking tired right now.
I lack the energy and enthusiasm to think about doing anything, anything for God’s sake, much less writing. Even worse, these feelings of listlessness are really starting to piss me off.
Unfortunately I realize, for me, anger is the jumping off point.
The sad thing is I know where this is going. Having suffered with bouts of depression for a long time, I know this could be the beginning of a painful, downward slide into hellish pits of angry self-pity, self-loathing and doubt.
Oh, I’m very familiar with how this shit starts. I recognize the triggers and I know it will only take one small thing, one very insignificant event to set it all in motion again.
I recognize the triggers all too well.
But a lot of times I’m completely at a loss as to how to stop this shit from taking place. And I’m wracking my brain trying to come up with a way to keep it from happening today.
It’s so totally frightening to be standing on the tracks and see that bullet train of depression hurtling toward you. You scream at yourself to get off the track. Just sidestep at the last second and you won’t have to suffer.
Get off the fucking track!
And yet you stand there and let the damned thing slam into your ass and carry you away. All that’s left is a shimmering image of you, a shell of yourself as the train speeds out of sight. You’re gone and it may be quite some time before you come back again.
If you ever do.
So far, I’ve been able to come back. And several times I’ve come back even stronger; able to recognize the triggers much quicker. There have been days when I’ve actually stopped myself from traveling the darkened road of despair.
The bad thing is I don’t remember exactly what I did, or what particular event took place, to stop it from happening.
Maybe I just got lucky. Maybe today will be one of those days.
One thing I know for sure. Just to be on the safe side I think I’ll try walking along the side of the track instead of right down the middle like I usually do. I’m going to try to avoid anything I know will frustrate or anger me. Anything which requires more than what I have inside at the moment to get the chore or task done.
At least for a little while. At least until I can get my shit together.
Hopefully, I won’t walk along the side too long. It’s never really been my style. Living life vicariously on the sidelines, in my humble opinion, is not really living. At some point in the near future I’m going to have to force myself back on the track. I’m going to have to force myself to walk that track right down the damned middle.
Yeah, without doubt I’ll meet up with another fucking bullet train of depression seeking to squash me like the insignificant human that I am.
Maybe I’ll be ready for it this time.
Maybe I’ll sidestep like an expert matador and let that sucker miss me by inches. I might just twirl my cape and let depression pass me by to the stunned amazement and delight of the crowd. Yeah, a horn may have snagged my tunic, but at least the damned thing didn’t gore me this time.
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