There is no other way to say it. No way to sugar coat it, or chalk it up to "low self esteem" or "seasonal malaise." It isn't a funny, crumudgeonly "you kids get off my lawn" type, or a snarky "what is Ann Curry wearing today" kind. It's a dark, and bitter attitude; one that wallows in defeat, and sees little hope in the future. It laughs at motivational techniques, or looking on the bright side. It's demanding too. It will wake me up in the middle of the night just to remind me what a failure I am, how I have let all of my potential go by, how it is too late to do anything about it, and how it is all my fault.
I told you: it just totally sucks.
And you were wondering why I haven't been blogging more often. I figured you could just read some Bukowski.
I would love to say this is just depression, but this doesn't feel the depression of the past. With that it feels like something outside of me. Something that I could alter with my medications or with therapy. This feels different. It feels organic, and deep rooted. However, unlike the regular depression, this doesn't feel like something I have to treat with drugs, or therapy. This feels like something I can take action to change. Actually, I think the only way to fix it is to make changes. To do something.
I just need to figure out what that something is.
Writing? If so, about what?
Erotic French Cooking Classes? No, I'm afraid of the oil burns. I don't think a trip to the ER would give me the sense of accomplishment and well being I seek.
Learn how to play an instrument? Do people still appreciate the Sousaphone?
Maybe saying one nice thing a day about my life, and concentrating on that? Could it be that simple?
Well, that would at least be slightly less sucky... I guess that's something.