(No one is allowed to take anything in here personally. If you're inclined to do that, reread an older blog and skip this one)
Okay, folks, the funk is winning at the moment. It doesn't look like it because I have rarely (can't quite say never) been one of those people who could take a break from everything just to feel something. Sometimes I even envy those who can. Me, I keep getting up and going to work and making sure the cats are fed. Doesn't mean I don't recognize that feeling of lassitude mingled with panic that marks depression for me. It starts with the recognition that I am in fact forcing myself to do the things that make up my life rather than anticipating them with joy. I feel like I'm surrounded by people who are constantly quarrelling either with each other or with me. At the moment, the response to the question, "Where do you want to be" is "Somewhere far away from here with only my instincts to listen to." I spent a long time uncovering that instinctual voice only to suddenly find it buried again. my plan to squirrel away money to go to Ireland in May is looking less feasible as I consider another 6+ months without anything resembling a vacation. I haven't written anything (with the exception of one poem) in months. I'm not working on Amy's baby blanket for a vague fear of putting this nasty energy into it. The thought of taking four days in December and heading to NYC is looking really good at the moment. Yes, I know NYC is cold as hell in December. I don't really care at this point. I haven't been in years and I love it there. I think the strange peace I feel when visiting there is worth the potential of putting Ireland off a bit longer. Right now, I have just about enough saved to cover something like that. At the very least, I feel the need to cut off most of my social activities at the moment until I can get my feet back under me for good again. I'm snapping at people and resenting just about everything anyone says to me that isn't bland and impersonal. Acting that way doesn't represent the me I want to be. It's been pointed out that I have to take care of myself, that there's a balance issue there just like with anything else in life. The baby steps I took toward that over the past year felt, even at the time, like extreme decadence. Why does pushing myself to this point feel so normal? I'm tired, I'm not sleeping, I have little appetite most days. Yesterday, Peeves and Daisy hissing at each other made me cry. I've resisted for as long as I can-time to call in reinforcements. It may not (probably won't) still the overthinking I'm so prone to but maybe it will make it easier to start determining when 'no' is, in fact, the correct and kindest answer to all involved. Apologies in advance, I just have to step back again.