It’s like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness is a story.
— Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

The Struggle Bus

I'm failing at this. Very badly. I've got a monthly pass for the struggle bus.

I had this fantasy that I would be shooting out blog posts left and right and podcasting every week. I have tried my best to podcast every week but they are so fucking boring. I talk too slow and I'm not talking with enough emotion. And these blog posts...I'm just fucking lazy.

I've been in a bit of a funk lately. I have been dealing with some anxiety and some bad habits of my depression have crept back. One of those things is lethargy.

Yesterday after work, I tried to find something to do (with a low level of effort though). I came up empty, which is quite normal. It was a Friday evening, so I sank into my couch and started dozing off around 9pm. I decided to just call it a night and went to bed. It was the earliest I had gone to bed in a very long time. 

I got about 11 hours of sleep and woke up today and did my normal morning routine, which is to feed Ruth (my cat) and then take my medication. I then proceeded to do laundry and watch old episodes of Rick and Morty. When the washer was done, I knew I had to throw my clothes in the dryer but I my body didn't want to get up. I sat there for several minutes deliberating if I should get up and put my clothes in the dryer. 

A normal person would have just gotten up and put the wet clothes in the dryer as soon as the washer was done. I sat there for about 15 minutes and forced myself to get up because I hate how clothes that stay wet for too long get that weird smell.

The simplest tasks become so difficult and daunting. When the will is there, I can be a very productive member of society, but when it's not, I'm just a heavy bag of bones and fat.

This is something I've struggled with for most of my life, but I didn't know how to put it into words growing up. And it usually is only the case when I'm by myself.

I went from someone that was very comfortable with being alone to becoming someone who is dying to get out of the house but is too lazy. It's still very difficult to explain how I feel. Obviously.

That said, I was able to muster up energy to finish two loads of laundry (clothes and sheets+duvet), take my cat out to get her nails trimmed (super sharp) and then get a cup of coffee.

Now I'm back home typing this up while listening to emo music in the background while I have the Wisconsin v. Villanova game on mute. 

I often have the feeling that I'm going through an existential crisis because I often feel like I don't really have a purpose. It's not so much a source of anxiety though because I honestly don't believe anyone when they say they have a purpose in life. I won't refute anyone, but inside I'm calling bullshit. But what I think doesn't matter to anyone else. It shouldn't. Live your life.

Human beings in general. What purpose do we serve? I haven't heard a good answer yet. Is our purpose to find a way to get off this planet and find some other place to ruin...I mean...live?

I don't mean to be so down. I'm just trying to find my self purpose, which to me is different than having an overall purpose. My self purpose is 100% selfish. My self purpose will never be something like, "making sure the children in 3rd world countries always have food to eat." It would be more like, "making sure that I always have food to eat."

Sometimes you gotta take care of yourself. I just don't really know how to do it.

Next stop on the struggle bus? Anywhere. I just want to get off and charge my phone cause it's about to die soon. 

Mind Over Matter

Changes