Something

As far as months go; August was not great. At least not for me…. and over 62,000 Bahamians…

But we can talk about The Bahamas later; my psychological state is obviously more important right now.

For the past few weeks, I have been in what I’ve always referred to as a “funk”; a term that I think is supposed to be a stand-in for ‘depression’. But I am not entirely sure that is true, because I have never actually been diagnosed with depression. It could just be one of those Millennial “woe is me” catastrophications which really serve to excuse bad behavior by formulating a hero narrative for oneself, so that if success ever arrives in the future, you could add to the resume of your life “battled with depression” as a fictional obstacle you overcame; the illusion of having a depth of character which you actually lack, in the hopes that people can’t figure out how much of a fraud you are. Or worse yet; an excuse to justify your lack accomplishment and unwillingness to reflect upon your own flaws, and then correct them…

I sure hope that’s not it. But then again, I am not a particularly evolved person. I’ll let those who see me more objectively judge for themselves, and then disagree with them later.

These “funks” have become a pattern. It happens once or twice a year; I fall into this cycle of laziness, tiredness, and self-loathing. The triggers vary and I usually don’t recognize I am in the middle of it until I’m weeks in. It’s like only realizing you’re in a fog when you look back and can no longer see your own footsteps. Luckily time helps provide the presence of mind to look back and question whether its normal to have fifteen bad days in a row. Could it be something else?

First sign came when the end of August rolled around, and I realized I had not written shit for this blog. My surprise at the fact that August was almost gone was the second sign; somehow the passage of an entire month escaped me. The third sign was the number of Reese’s Minis I ate in one sitting.

You see, Reese’s Minis are a very impractical snack. They are very small and individually wrapped in tin foil and paper. The amount of work it takes to get to the actual candy is not commensurate to the reward. This means that if you have the will and determination to sit on a couch and go through 15 Reese’s Minis while watching television you are not invested in, things aren’t going very well… I counted 25 wrappers on my table on Monday. So I’m borderline suicidal.

It’s been one excuse after another, none of which justify my lack of drive and effort. I told myself that I would write at least two essays every month. Now I am looking back at an August that contained a disappointingly small amount of creative output. And I don’t have anyone to blame but myself and my inability to navigate the mental quagmire of my changing moods. It’s like being in a constant battle with myself; an ongoing tug of war between the pleasures of immediate satisfaction and the reward of delayed gratification. Whenever I enter these “funks”, I find it easier and easier to be a lesser version of myself. One that too easily says ‘yes’ to the instant burst of dopamine that comes with over-consuming media, eating unhealthy foods, and sleeping in. A version of myself that puts things off, that believes it can always be done later. A version of myself that recognizes the counterproductive nature of his own behavior, but instead of choosing to fix it in any meaningful way, chooses to hate himself for it. Because that is easier, because self-awareness forgives the sins of my shortcomings, because lying to oneself is a defense mechanism to keep one from having to grow as a human being, because growing is hard and it’s only 8:30 a.m. and I could use another 10 minutes, because I stayed up until 2 in the morning playing Civilization.

So this is where I find myself now; yet another moment of self-realization I hope not to squander as I’ve done with so many before. As the fog slowly starts to lift, I am filled with anxiety at having to make up for lost time. And perhaps that is my problem; that looking back at my life much of my time feels lost, and not enough of it has felt invested.

Too many opportunities squandered. Too many hours poured into trivialities. Too many alarms snoozed. What amounts to thousands of hours, that I could have invested into mastering a craft. How far could I have come if not for myself? I could have been well on my way to learning French by now, but instead I chose to watch the same episodes of The Office I had already seen, while falling asleep on the couch after eating an unhealthy amount of uncomfortably-wrapped sugary treats.

So I have to start investing in myself in order to make this month feel less lost than the previous. Perhaps it starts by writing something. Anything.

Perhaps that start is this.