The past couple of weeks, and today in particular, have not been good ones.
I can’t pinpoint a reason (although I am in the process of selling my flat and moving, so given that moving is supposed to be one of the most stressful things in life next to grief and divorce, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that things are falling apart a little).
I have a severe case of the “What’s the point?”s and the “Why bother”s.
As in:- What’s the point in continuing to write blog posts, or the book you eventually want to get under your belt; Everyone else has done it first, done it better, and done it more profitably than you can. No-one reads your stuff anyway, and it’s nowhere near as good as you think it is. You have no money, and at the rate you’re going, this will never make you a living. You don’t even know how to promote yourself, and you’re not willing to put the work in. So stop.
And:- What’s the point of practicing your art, especially of trying to sell it; it’s amateurish and crap and once again, everyone else in the business does a better job than you. This won’t support you either. Stop kidding yourself. Why practice when you hate everything you create?
And:- Why bother showering/ getting dressed/ putting on makeup/ brushing your hair? You stay in all day, nobody sees you because you have alienated all your friends, and when you do make an effort you look ridiculous, like the proverbial mutton dressed as lamb. Not to mention you are ageing, and have stayed in the house all year without really exercising, which has made you plump. Old, short and plump. You can’t dress up a space hopper into a swan.
It also becomes:- Why bother even getting out of bed? Every day is the same, and you never have any energy to do anything anyway, because you’re lazy and useless.
And:- Why bother reaching out to anyone for help? You’ve isolated yourself and ignored people so most of them don’t want to talk to you now anyway, plus when you do, you’re that needy, energy-draining friend whom no-one wants to be around. What a buzz kill. Your friends are a lot better off if you shut up and stay out-of-the-way. And your Mum is still ill and doesn’t need her health deteriorating further by worrying about you, you selfish cow.
This also leads to:- Why do you even feel like this? You’re privileged and live in the rich Western hemisphere. Lots of people around the world would happily trade places with you, and they don’t have trouble smiling.
These thoughts continue in an endless, inescapable circle and block out everything else.
I’m aware that this is not a good spiral to be in. I’m also aware that many of these thoughts are not completely rational. But typing that felt like a lie. Because these thoughts ring true, to me.
I’m sharing this because I need to rant about it, to articulate it, to let it out somehow. To know I’m not alone. I’ve been writing in my journal a lot, but have actually got so fed up with continuing to write the same things in my whiny inner voice that I’ve stopped.
If this reaches someone in a similarly dark place and convinces them they’re not crazy, other people think this way too, then that’s a win. If it reaches someone who doesn’t have and never has suffered from depression or depressive tendencies, and helps them to understand what is going on in their Debbie Downer friend’s head, then that’s also a win.
I’m just hoping to clear my head enough to get a peaceful, non-nightmare-filled sleep.