I have lost my shine
There's a dull residue coating my life. I am capable of doing all the things that need to be done, but none of them involve thinking or creation or anything besides crossing things off a never-ending list. I can't think worth a damn. Can't write anything intricate or long or substantial. Can't plan a project, much less carry one out. The weight of the list is such that I am dragged down, sometimes physically.
This has not impeded my ability to work. I am pleasant and professional at work - even during ethics training season. That was the first clue.
And here's the thing... I'm not in a particularly bad mood. I'm not wallowing in misery. I'm not much of anything at all. I just sort of am. That worries me, because I'm pretty sure that lots of people go through life this way, but I don't want to. Not when I can still remember being even a little bit shiny. I wonder how long that will last, the ability to remember. I'm getting so good at just doing what needs to be done and moving onto the next item on the list, the next place where I fill a niche, the next person who needs me to be or say or do the thing that I have always done and then fade into the background until required again. And I cannot blame anything or anyone, because I am so fucking boring right now that even I don't care what I have to say. I have nothing to say. I cannot think, much less be interesting.
I am subsumed.
This has not impeded my ability to work. I am pleasant and professional at work - even during ethics training season. That was the first clue.
And here's the thing... I'm not in a particularly bad mood. I'm not wallowing in misery. I'm not much of anything at all. I just sort of am. That worries me, because I'm pretty sure that lots of people go through life this way, but I don't want to. Not when I can still remember being even a little bit shiny. I wonder how long that will last, the ability to remember. I'm getting so good at just doing what needs to be done and moving onto the next item on the list, the next place where I fill a niche, the next person who needs me to be or say or do the thing that I have always done and then fade into the background until required again. And I cannot blame anything or anyone, because I am so fucking boring right now that even I don't care what I have to say. I have nothing to say. I cannot think, much less be interesting.
I am subsumed.