The way out...

Dark days, right now. Really dark. I don't know why... I don't think that anything specific has happened to send me into a funk, but boy, am I in one.

I'm feeling very, very, very unable to do anything. I managed to go out to lunch with some former-co-workers today—I enjoy their company very much, they're wonderful people! But I didn't really feel "into" eating, even the high-quality tea didn't make me feel any better. And I was so tired on the drive home, I just wanted to pull over and lie down. Not "go to sleep," but just lie down and close my eyes.

My route home from the tea place takes me via many food-vending establishments. Why don't I pick up some nice fresh veggies for dinner, I think. Nope. Not enough energy. Maybe I can pick up some supermarket sushi... nope. Not enough energy. At least I had enough gumption not to make a hotdog for myself for dinner, I've had way too many of those recently. Usually enjoyed them, but tonight? Nope. Not really enjoying... anything. Not enough energy to do... anything.

It took a lot of determination to do just this. But "inspiration?" Don't have it.

This makes me want to cry. There are so many things, very simple things, that are, ostensibly, easy to do. Or at least they used to be, before simply walking just to the bathroom took so much effort. I have music that, on paper, I want to write. I have other non-musical things I want to write. Thing after thing after thing, the preparation of each would seem ("on paper," or when you look at what physically is involved) to take so little effort. And I just can't bring myself to do it. Maybe. MAYBE. Start it? Kind of? MAYBE... pretend to start it, maybe. But... to actually start it? Or do it? Nope. Ain't gonna happen.

There are so many things that I tell myself that I want to do. Things that, in the past, moved me, inspired me,  in the contemplation of their doing. But right now, I feel like I can't do anything. Anything.

I sit in the back yard. I just sit and listen (both to the external sounds and what I "hear" inside). Interesting. Thought-provoking. But comforting? Liberating? Inner-transformative?

No.

More accurately, [expletive] no.

Oh, so often I can find the humor in the darkness. One night I fainted and fell on the floor and stuck to the floor and couldn't crawl because I was so soaked in sweat that I stuck to the floor, and I found that... funny.

Which, y'know, when you're stuck to the floor soaking in your own cold sweat, finding your situation funny is actually kind of a nice thing.

But right now... I can't find the Zen-ish clarity, I can't find the dark or light humor, I can't find anything besides darkness. Am I still mourning my job separation? Maybe... Is dealing with the insurance companies's idiocies depressing me? Not at first blush, but it sure isn't making things easier. I wish I could break down into tears and just cry it out... at least I'd get "it," whatever "it" is, out. I wish I could have a master-throwing-his-shoe-at-the-student sudden Zen moment to snap me out of it. If it's The Disease, I wish whatever The Disease is doing right now would just @#$#$ing stop—it can have bladder malfunction, it can take playing the organ away from me, but please just back off the depression. But then again, it if is The Disease, wishing at it ain't gonna do anything...

Sometimes, the way out is through. But @#$@@#$, man, I am so not enjoying the journey right now.