I think I’ve a bout of depression going on. I’m not too bad right now this morning (yes, I still haven’t made the change to the mornings. I’m blaming lack of heat and my need to be under blankets for as long as possible.), but last night I was frozen in time and space and feeling useless and stupid and self-hating and I kind of lost the ability to move.

I left everything up to my husband for the evening and curled up under a blanket from where I was cranky with my children – like I didn’t even manage to keep the kids entertained for fuck’s sake. What a useless lump of meat I was being.

Listen to how I talk to myself too. I’m not supposed to do that.

Ah, I see. I want to shut my inner critic up because it’s breaking the rules to be so internally harsh. Not because I really believe I should.

I have a strong goddamned attachment to my harsh and self-flagelatory parts. I remember a time when the Pointy Plague Doctor was changing form and I was able to glimpse the me under the mask and it felt like maybe there was the potential for some kind of reconcilliation there between me and the rest of my parts.

Then I stopped drawing them. (okay)

Then I stopped paying attention to them. (not so okay)

It’s interesting to me that this is all flaring up at the same time as strong thoughts about drinking alcohol again seem to be resurfacing too. And I’m also creeping up on that year milestone.

If I had felt at 100 days alcohol-free the way I do now, I think I would have started drinking again. And for what? I know exactly what it is my brain wants to do; it wants to get drunk and get out of my brain and out of my life for a while.

I keep trying to write myself into gratitude and acceptance of the life that I have and I’m not really acknowledging that there are some valid complaints in there. And even the stuff that’s not valid, well … I’m still feeling it, right? What harm could come from just saying “yes” to myself for a while: yes, I’m unhappy. yes, I am uncomfortable in my body. yes, I am frustrated about our house and living situation and I’m worried and anxious about money, and I feel like I don’t have time enough nor energy enough to change very much about my circumstances.

I want to try harder I want to do more, because this is not enough. It’s not a case of my life not being good enough from the outside – my life is not enough for me from the inside. I’ve got to do more, I’ve got to spend more time on things that have value to me, things that make me feel like worthwhile human being, but then –

And we’re back to time and energy.

Except – I don’t really accept that excuse. And maybe I’m being harsh with myself about this. There is more time in the day than I give the day credit for. I have enough energy to get through scheduled tasks and commitments. But I’m not experiencing the energy. I get frozen in time and space. I get stuck and I don’t care.

Am I just afraid? Am I just leaving the potential of doing stuff there as a thing that could make me feel better and more worthwhile and purposeful? Am I afraid that if I actually do some stuff that it will be objectively bad, or that it won’t really make the difference to my sense of purpose that I suppose it will?

I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe a little from column A (time and energy) and a little from column B (fear). All I really know is that doing nothing, making no change is one surefire way to continue to feel bad.

But I don’t want to do boring courses and write down shit about how I talk to myelf on the inside. I don’t want to figure out that inside I’m just another mundane person who has the same predictable mundane struggles as everyone else. I want to be brilliant. I want to be a shining star whose every thought is unique and new and flames across the sky.

But I know that inside I’m ultimately just the same standard model of flawed and boring human, and I don’t feel so ready to be okay with that.