Shit, it’s been a rough week. Do you ever have those days when you can’t do anything right? And nothing is particularly wrong, but you just feel inexplicably like shit? And like you’d rather be anyone but yourself. And if it were a viable option, you would dig a dank, dark hole and crawl into it and not come out until the world slows down to a reasonable pace I’m capable of living.
This has been one of those weeks. Nothing feels right, and there’s not one thing I like about myself or what I’m doing. I mess up at work, everything fails that I touch, and even my banana bread wasn’t good. And my guitar practice blows. And I snap at Mitch, and I give up on everything. Including cleaning the bathroom. Because it’s all totally handleable yet unreasonably NOT bearable.
And food doesn’t taste good and music isn’t the magic it usually is. Even Diet Coke tastes less sparkly and Netflix is just really grinding my gears with the dearth of new material I haven’t yet watched.
And these are the weeks when you totally know you’re being an asshole. And you know you should snap out of it and be present because life is great and beautiful and all that cliche bull that’s truth yet the last thing you want to hear on weeks like these.
You’re just goddamned depressed, and all you want to do is wallow. Because it’s too hot outside and work sucks and you can’t do anything right. Not one single thing. And the future is so nebulous and your heart hurts from the uncertainty and the pressure of just living. It’s crushing, and it’s consuming, and all you feel like you’re capable of doing is sleeping because sleep means you don’t have to have any human interaction and your boss doesn’t hate you and you have no obligations or goals to live up to and conquer.
Sleep. That’s where I’m a viking. Me and Ralph Wiggum.
And every day things like taking a phone call at work makes you want to completely head for the hills and shout “a hermit’s life for me!” but you know you can’t because that’s not socially acceptable and you have a job and a husband and cats that depend on you and love you. But it doesn’t take away the feeling of sheer panic you get when they say “line 1 for Amy! Amy, line 1″ because no matter who it is or how nice they are, you’re still going to have to talk to someone, and that inevitably leads to making a complete fool of yourself.
And every day things like eating are really difficult to the point where it’s embarrassing. And you can’t go to lunch with friends because you’re so afraid of breaking your routine. And god knows why you’re so afraid of breaking it because you KNOW nothing will happen, but that doesn’t even matter because it’s so irrational to your depressed and anxious mind that it’s completely rational. So you just eat the same thing every day by yourself because at least it’s safe and at least it’s comfortable and at least there’s no chance of failing or disappointing anyone.
These are the every day things that become completely impossible on these types of weeks. Just getting up in the morning is unthinkable. Because waking up means failing and hurting and facing all of these horrendously uncomfortable situations human beings have to face every day because it’s something we just call life. And the daily grind. And there’s really no escaping it.
That’s just it. There’s no escaping it. I AM the one that needs to change, and the world isn’t going to change for me just because I’m a heaping stinking mass of anxiety. That’s where the real shackles get locked into place. Because I know there’s no escaping it, and when you feel like this, there’s no changing yourself either.
So what do you do?
I don’t know what you do. And I wish I had some grand answer for you. Sometimes Prozac tells me, but lately it doesn’t so much. So I’m left to my own devices, which are these.
I try. I wake up. I go through the motions. I take my pills and I eat the same thing every day because I know it won’t last forever. These times come and these times go. And all you can really do is see them on the conveyor belt of your effed up mind and let them be what they’re going to be.
I had to stop fighting these weeks because these shit weeks come more often than the normal weeks. The weeks where you get this strange glimpse of what it must feel like to be a totally regulated human being. The shit weeks come and the good weeks go, and it all just ebbs and flows just like everything else.
So I do what I can and I let all judgments reside. I have absolutely no concrete answers on what to do with weeks like this outside of just let it be, mama. Trust that it will change. It may come with the change of the season and it may come when the new Arcade Fire album drops. Just keep going. Because I know I’ve beat it before, and I know I can do it again.
Resiliency is a beautiful thing. Our ability to cope with weeks like these is completely underrated. It’s completely useless to think you can just will yourself out of weeks like these. No matter how much you try to change your attitude, you’re still going to have these weeks. The trick is to let them happen, KNOW they’re happening, be present while they do, and let the judgment go.
It is what it is. And it will get better.
Now here’s some random pics of Utah nature because Utah is where it’s at. Lake Mary with my girlfrans. They know what’s up.