Melancholia.
Good word. Like the sound of it.
Definition: Subtype of depression. Feelings of extreme despair and guilt. Struggling to feel any happiness, even when good things happen.
Isn't it exciting to know there are subtypes of depression?
I am a bit down today. Can't really put my finger on it. Usually if I cannot define it, it means a number of worries have converged upon my mind simultaneously to weigh me down.
What I am feeling is not melancholia - that's a bit extreme. Like I said, I just like the word. But in a comparative way it feels like melancholia because I have been able to construct a positive framework within which to exist and, since that is typically foreign to me, when it slips - my spirit is dragged through the mud.
I am making large to extra-large changes in my life. Change causes stress.
I am exercising my brain and body, I am dieting, I am trying to wrestle my relationships with my family around to where I think they should be - how they should function. Still dealing with this Covid shit and something called Prostate Cancer. Trying to figure out what my next job move should be because I cannot deal with the job I have much longer without becoming Charles Whitman. Ultimately gotta sell the house to achieve true freedom, which I richly deserve.
Simply put - I am in uncharted waters no matter which direction I face.
I am 67 - shouldn't my life be fragrant, rooftop to the basement? Shouldn't I have nothing but time and smiles?
Yes. It should and I should. I fucked up. Not gonna get into that right now because you have heard it all before.
I am fascinated that I can have a day like this in the midst of all the good stuff I am engineering for myself. It's not just the results that are satisfying, but the conscious effort I am putting into it all.
I am relentless.
I thought I had built up enough of a beefy positive wall of defense to guard against a reversal like this.
Apparently not.
A lifetime of self-destructive thought and action creates a formidable foe.
Besides, it's a rainy day.
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