We went away for a long weekend and did nothing but swim and eat and drink beer, and I was feeling so happy and full of possibilities. And then we came home and that old feeling descended almost immediately. I hardly know how to describe it. It feels like I am covered in a heavy wet blanket, every movement takes five times the usual energy, every task feels insurmountable. I crave stillness, sitting. I don't want to talk to people. This feeling seems to come to me fairly regularly these days, almost always on Mondays and unpredictably on other days. Too much time spent aimlessly on the computer seems to trigger it. It is so hard for me to get things done in this state. I look around and feel defeated by my messy house. I feel panicky at the idea of figuring out the interminable meals we have to eat. Playing with Mia takes every drop of my energy. I don't know what it is. Maybe I just hate responsibility.
I am sadly realizing that I am not an ambitious person. My truest career goal is to not have to work at all. It feels like my time to play around and figure things out, that time I had so looked forward to after being laid off, evaporated all too quickly. My dreams of roaming my neighborhood with a camera, doing volunteer work, cooking elaborate meals, where did they go? Now I am squeezed between a job that feels stressful and, possibly, futile and the responsibilities of childcare and errands and housecleaning. Oh my lord do I hate housecleaning, hate it with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. There is more of it than ever because I fired the housekeeper when I got laid off, and Mia and I now spend exponentially more time in the house. Every surface is covered in crap and, most days, I just can't bring myself to do a thing about it.
And the work situation is disconcerting. There's a good possibility that my job won't exist a year from now or that, even if it does, I won't want to be doing it. I feel incompetent in this new role. Sometimes I feel like the whole thing is a setup for failure. And then I keep hearing about this "double-dip" recession, and I think, "What if I never find anything else?" Or what if, possibly worse, I have to go back to a full-time office job?
My meditation practice is stagnating, deteriorating. I am back on the sleeping pills because I couldn't stand not sleeping. I want to try accupuncture for insomnia, but the logistics of figuring that out are just too much for me right now. I don't know what this post is about, except maybe a personal attempt to figure out why I often feel so weighed down and unable to move. I am not trying to be whiny, really, I am just trying to get something out, and maybe this is the plug that has been blocking the pipeline of words.
I need to write more. I think I need to spend a year or two on some crazy adventure and then write a book about it and get rich and never have to work again. But let's just start with writing more, even if it is non-sensical bullshit like this, written while eating a rubbery microwaved burrito and putting off the much-needed trip to the bank and ignoring the disaster of a house around me.
Hey, go read what I wrote about my vacation.