“I Think It’s Going To Rain Today.”

I’m not sure how to explain the past two weeks. I feel like I am subsisting on a plane not fully connected to reality. The days are blurring together through an incoherent string of events. I can’t seem to remember when any given moment ends or begins. Everything is seemingly unconnected but as a result of a previous cause.

I resigned from my job two weeks ago, a week after returning from my meditation retreat. Honestly I know this puts me in a bad way for a little while but its in my best interest… for the long-term. But this in-between state of no routine is really strenuous. And every evening I commit to creating a routine for myself but then just… the hours slip and I have accomplished a great deal of things somehow. But… it doesn’t feel like accomplishment.

I think I should be joyous that I finally have the time to read, watch all the things on the list, visit the coffee shops… and yet, the only thing I want is to work. Work is my all-defining life purpose. There just cannot be any enjoyment when all the time is supposed to be enjoyable.

And naturally there are emotional and physical struggles permeating this weird existence of mine. I’ve managed to contract a full-time lover of sorts. Which doesn’t help either of us. But I suppose it passes the time. And it ensures that I don’t get lost in my mind during this weird transitional phase. Because I feel like given the lack of his presence I would potentially be under the influence of sleeping pills for as many hours as possible.

Despite my weightlessness and this floating feeling of ‘nothing makes sense’ I am quite grounded in my cognizance that this situation does not merit suicidal thoughts or behavior. Which is throwing me down a further rabbit hole of confusion. My instinctual behavior is suicidal, is depressed, is self-destructive. And yet I’m submitting resumes every day and maintaining some semblance of social ties (though presumably not with everyone as my ‘absence’ has been duly noted by a few friends).

And I’m trying to figure out if I’m SECRETLY unknowingly depressed or if this time I just really am not depressed?? Making hay stacks out of straw? Honestly I feel like I am gazing at the world with open eyes and blindsight. I’m fully immersed in the sea but I am oblivious to the waves. Both metaphors lead down a bad road.

I have been giving advice to my depressed friend. I’ve been shrugging off phone calls from family in which I’ve been asked if I’m honestly OK.

Honestly I don’t know. But I’ll keep going on like I’m not.

My state is just like this weather. It can’t decide between cloudy/moody/windy and hot, clear skies. It looks and feels like the temperature drops every couple of minutes and then suddenly the sun comes out to play. Then — it’s just cold again. Or is it just warm again?

CARTIER-BRESSON_1945_Simone_de_Beauvoir

Beauvoir

Simone de Beauvoir was a French writer and existentialist philosopher. I think the most grand title in this world is that of philosopher. A bonafide thinker of thoughts. A deceptively simple thing but I think the difficulty lies in being able to properly express thoughts in a coherent manner.

“I am awfully greedy; I want everything from life. I want to be a woman and to be a man, to have many friends and to have loneliness, to work much and write good books, to travel and enjoy myself, to be selfish and to be unselfish… You see, it is difficult to get all which I want. And then when I do not succeed I get mad with anger.”

- – -

“I am too intelligent, too demanding, and too resourceful for anyone to be able to take charge of me entirely. No one knows me or loves me completely. I have only myself.”

- – -

I can deeply relate to both of these quotes. Anger is my pervading emotion due in large part to all my conflicting desires that ultimately leads to something akin to “want[ing] everything” … and all at once. This is a phrase I have used multiple times in my writing. I think desiring is okay – given it is sufficient fuel for moving forward. But many times it is closer to debilitating, this desire for all the things.

I’ve been spending my few minutes of spare time thinking, thinking, thinking. And doing less writing. Just being in any given moment makes you realize just how impermanent everything is versus monumentalizing it in spoken/written form.

So I am back from my vacation and while I initially thought I would write about it, I think recapitulating it as many times as I have, in conversation, has made me really not feel it necessary to do so. I learned a lot of things while on vacation for 12 days. And that’s all I’d like to say at this time.

Mostly I just wanted to get back into the motion of writing even if sharing words mostly not my own, but words I can understand.

Image Credits: Aphelis.Net

Inferno

Nothing ever happened to me, nothing ever would happen to me. There was nothing for me. The future no longer existed for me. If my days were to go on like that, nothing would separate me from my death–nothing! Not a thing! To be bored is to die! My life was dead, and yet I had to live. It was suicide. Others killed themselves with poison or with a revolver. I killed myself with minutes and hours.

— Henri Barbusse, “The Inferno”

Expending

I am just barely awake right now. I feel inexplicably unrested and exhausted. Yet it’s a Monday, I’m at work and that means a lot a lot a lot to do. Most of which I’ve already powered through but then there is of course the 2nd job in the evening. And then tomorrow the same deal except that tomorrow I have to pack for my 10 day vacation. I started laundry yesterday morning and left it in the dryer. But at least I did all the dishes – half by hand and the bulk in the dishwasher. I also left those inside the dishwasher…

Everything feels like half-baked right now. There are just too many things to do and hardly enough time.

Yesterday evening my friend came over to see my place for the first time. By the time he came over I was about halfway through a bottle of wine… forreal. So I was definitely rather tipsy. I managed to entertain him with my home-cooked leftovers (which he super complimented, bless his heart). Then he listened to my super sexy talk on financials, career stressors, and just basically… nothing really all that interesting. But he was into it. And then he proceeded to compliment my watch (obviously he’s super smooth ok?) and he was delicately touching my wrist and it felt really nice. But I mean it was just my wrist! I have not had any human contact in a very long while, it would seem, that something so small was actually sufficient to make me blush. It was like straight up out of a Jane Austen novel where after he touches her hand they fall madly in love… lmfao.

But then he politely excused himself to go see his younger brother.

However, he messaged me almost immediately after a variation of “I wish I had stayed.”

Now, mind you. Mind you. He is NOT trying to woo me. Not even a little bit. This is just his personality. He’s this really charming, polite, flirtatious fucker that knows how to get a woman to fall head over heels.

And me? I started to feel sad and dwell on the fact that the only person I feel is worth any time at all just won’t ever feel I have any worth whatsoever. And it was pathetic. And I messaged him. And he isn’t going to reply. And … I just feel like I’m all messed up inside because of it. There’s nothing more I can do. It’s a dead end.

Knowing all the facts doesn’t change the emotional contradictions.