mood scribbles
i dunno what I wanted to write, I'm just in a Mood To Write
wanted to type, to tell some kind of story
Guess I'll update my journal lol
I feel like I've lost some important things in the process of Growing Up that I miss. And the depression and anxiety and all of it has just eaten away at me until I'm a shell of what I used to be, more often than not.
I can't stand my job because I border on unnecessary in a strange way; there's so much time where I do nothing, or very little, and I know for the people I work for I do a lot, and they value the time and energy I put in, but there is so. much. down. time.
But I love my job because I'm a caregiver by nature, and I am helping people, and it's mostly easy on my body; there's a lot of down time and easy work. I enjoy the people I get to know (mostly).
i
Contradictions. Mentally I want something challenging, but I don't know what that means anymore with how addled my brains feel like they've gotten. Physically I want something challenging, but my chronic health problems there create this Venn diagram of things I feel like I could do in the tiniest center sliver of near statistical insignificance-- okay, maybe not that bad but it was fun to write.
And I have a hard time working on getting better physically, because of where I am mentally, and it turns into the sneaky spiral of exhausted give-no-fucks.
Which is basically where I spend my time, either giving zero fucks or giving too many fucks, with no comfortable middle ground. What middle ground there is, is spent on things I wish I could either give less fucks about or have the energy to do something about the fucks I do give about them. UGH.
I feel like an absolute wreck any time I stop to think about it. The inside of my head is a mess as bad as the one I live in (or worse) and I hate it.
I have zero defined characters I can "drop into" like I used to. I have no motivation. I have no energy. I have no inspiration. I love to write, to doodle, to ride a bike, to run, to play, to dance, to read books... But even those things still feel outside of my grasp. Honestly this journaling has been the most writing I've done (except occasional RP on imvu) in far too long. Thinking about it makes me want to cry.
I don't feel unhappy, though. I feel happy, most of the time, with what I do have. With the things that I do do. I listen to music, I watch some TV or video games, I cuddle with Babe. These things are good.
And honestly, I don't hate cleaning. Like, when I'm in a mood to do it, I even usually enjoy it. I feel satisfied when I make a difference at the end. Some of it is tedious (especially organizing!) but a job well done is still well done and satisfying. It's all about the starting, usually. Hell, even when I don't enjoy it I'm honestly pretty ambivalent about it. So why is it so damn hard to start?
I told Waifu once that I follow the path of least resistance. I need direction, engagement, external force exerted in order to make things happen. Once they become routine, it's easier: because I trained my cat to annoy me at bedtime until I get my meds and then feed her, she gets fed and I get my meds at approximately the same time every evening. But until then, until I have a consistent force to set a routine, I live by the path of least resistance. And it's... probably not good, actually.
I just don't know what to do about it right now.
(Cross-posted from this entry on Dreamwidth. There are
comments there, please add your own using OpenID!)
wanted to type, to tell some kind of story
Guess I'll update my journal lol
I feel like I've lost some important things in the process of Growing Up that I miss. And the depression and anxiety and all of it has just eaten away at me until I'm a shell of what I used to be, more often than not.
I can't stand my job because I border on unnecessary in a strange way; there's so much time where I do nothing, or very little, and I know for the people I work for I do a lot, and they value the time and energy I put in, but there is so. much. down. time.
But I love my job because I'm a caregiver by nature, and I am helping people, and it's mostly easy on my body; there's a lot of down time and easy work. I enjoy the people I get to know (mostly).
i
Contradictions. Mentally I want something challenging, but I don't know what that means anymore with how addled my brains feel like they've gotten. Physically I want something challenging, but my chronic health problems there create this Venn diagram of things I feel like I could do in the tiniest center sliver of near statistical insignificance-- okay, maybe not that bad but it was fun to write.
And I have a hard time working on getting better physically, because of where I am mentally, and it turns into the sneaky spiral of exhausted give-no-fucks.
Which is basically where I spend my time, either giving zero fucks or giving too many fucks, with no comfortable middle ground. What middle ground there is, is spent on things I wish I could either give less fucks about or have the energy to do something about the fucks I do give about them. UGH.
I feel like an absolute wreck any time I stop to think about it. The inside of my head is a mess as bad as the one I live in (or worse) and I hate it.
I have zero defined characters I can "drop into" like I used to. I have no motivation. I have no energy. I have no inspiration. I love to write, to doodle, to ride a bike, to run, to play, to dance, to read books... But even those things still feel outside of my grasp. Honestly this journaling has been the most writing I've done (except occasional RP on imvu) in far too long. Thinking about it makes me want to cry.
I don't feel unhappy, though. I feel happy, most of the time, with what I do have. With the things that I do do. I listen to music, I watch some TV or video games, I cuddle with Babe. These things are good.
And honestly, I don't hate cleaning. Like, when I'm in a mood to do it, I even usually enjoy it. I feel satisfied when I make a difference at the end. Some of it is tedious (especially organizing!) but a job well done is still well done and satisfying. It's all about the starting, usually. Hell, even when I don't enjoy it I'm honestly pretty ambivalent about it. So why is it so damn hard to start?
I told Waifu once that I follow the path of least resistance. I need direction, engagement, external force exerted in order to make things happen. Once they become routine, it's easier: because I trained my cat to annoy me at bedtime until I get my meds and then feed her, she gets fed and I get my meds at approximately the same time every evening. But until then, until I have a consistent force to set a routine, I live by the path of least resistance. And it's... probably not good, actually.
I just don't know what to do about it right now.
(Cross-posted from this entry on Dreamwidth. There are
comments there, please add your own using OpenID!)