“What are your plans for today?”
“I’ve none. That’s the problem. Well, I’ve some laundry and ironing to do but that’s it.”
“Nothing to write about.”
“What about some photography? You haven’t done any in a while, have you?”
“Nothing to photograph.”
“Well, there’s your task today then.”
“You’ve got to help yourself love.”
This was our conversation as he dressed after his shower this morning.
You may, (or more likely, may not), have noticed that I’ve been very quiet for a while now. My last entry to this blog was July 18th, and even that was just to link to elust.
I have felt completely devoid of inspiration. I have nothing to say that I think is worth sharing.
I feel aimless; I have no routine, no goals, no purpose.
Breakfast, lunch and dinner are the only markers of my day. Sometimes I feel like I am existing merely to get to the next mealtime.
Many days I don’t bother to get dressed.
I can’t remember the last time I was outside alone.
“I’m sorry I look so shitty,” I say several times a day. He replies, telling me to shush and that I am beautiful.
I am clueless as to how to fix this…
Do I need a routine? Do I need him to tell me what it is? The ‘little’ in me strives to be obedient and pleasing, but I know I will probably rebel against any instructions that he gives me, because I feel too tired, too apathetic to carry them out.
Perhaps I feel unworthy of feeling any better?
I am five weeks into my new medication… the so-called miracle pill that is Prozac. Is it working? Maybe, to some extent. But not enough. Not consistently. I have fleeting moments of confidence and contentment, where I do not despise myself, but they do no last.
I sit here, 9.50am, yet another day where I am not showered or dressed yet, and with no plans for the day ahead of me, with only a detached sense of resignation that nothing will change. Numb.
Is this it? Is this how it shall be? Forever?
Why am I even sharing these meandering thoughts? Why bore and burden you with my non-issues?
With a deep sigh, (apparently I sigh A LOT), I end this decidedly mediocre, self-pitying post.
I hope illicithoughts will return to being a place where I can express myself again, hopefully entertain you, make you think, make you angry, make you sad, make you laugh.
I hope, but I can’t promise.
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