Have you ever had one of those days when you feel like everything you do is just clouded over and worthless? And I don’t mean like being depressed, because I know how that feels too. I mean like just feeling down. I think if you have too many of those kinds of days in a row it can lead to depression, though. Luckily I seem to just get isolated days like that. This is one of those gray days.
I’m not even sure where it comes from either. I’ve been doing relatively well lately, on an even keel, not necessarily buoyantly happy, but not sad either. I guess you could call it “existing,” and I think I’m pretty good at that. There are the pretend smiles, and no one is the wiser, except maybe my best friend, and there are the corny jokes, too, the ones that mask as well as anything else can mask my mood. But I think I went through too many of those fake days in a row and I have no energy left for it.
It reminds me of 2008 in many different ways, this malaise, but it’s just one day, not a year of my life. I haven’t talked out loud in fifteen minutes, and I can’t even remember what my voice sounds like, and I’m watching TV or maybe it’s just watching me. If I were a drinker I would probably be drunk by now, but instead I’m nursing a hot mug of coffee, curled up in the quasi-fetal position, feeling washed out.
I don’t say any of that as a plea for sympathy, dearest journal. It’s merely a statement of fact, an acknowledgement that everything is not alright, that I don’t know what’s wrong, but that I feel it’s transitory. It’s an exercise in admitting some things to myself that I would generally just ignore. Maybe I’m growing up after all.