It’s not that I’ve not been writing. It’s that I hate every word and send my attempts to the electronic paper shredder in the sky. All of it was meandering crap I couldn’t bear to look at. Pointlessly pointless. Unfortunately, regular deleting has a deleterious effect on productivity.

New plan. No deleting. Post the less than perfect.

This may backfire and result in zero writing. We’ll have to see. To be honest, nothing is only marginally less than the small something I’m generating, even if technically, “something” is infinitely greater.

I do better with my less-than-perfect art. Though I bin much of that too. I even post it online to friend acclaim. My friends are those kinds of friends and props for the mediocre is nice when you’re down in the dumps. Such a clichéd phrase that I feel like I should have The Carpenters playing in the background.

Mental illness killed Karen Carpenter. It disguised itself as a heart attack. *

I’m just saying. Anyhow, I expect less of myself from hands-on art than I do from writing. Though I fail to meet the lower expectations as well. I’m just more prepared for it.

Now that I’m not writing, I spend my days doing nothing of significance or quality. Yoga off and on. Some feeding of the birds. A bit of piano. The occasional inspirational story on HGTV that ends with a complete home renovation and reminds me of my inherent selfishness and poor choosing. Always a good time.

I struggle with the self-centeredness, with not everything being about me. I didn’t do very well addressing that quirk during the last lunar cycle even though I set it as my intention. In my defense, depression makes being self-centered remarkably easy.  

On the bright side, the significance-lacking days are busy. Puttering fills the hours. Some of it even makes me feel productive, like the sub-categories of tidying, organizing, and discarding. It’s always a good idea to throw things away when you’re miserable. It never leads to regret.

Sarcasm comes easily when I’m depressed. Another reason to withdraw from the world. I get mean. I let off some of the mean-steam on social media. In a mostly polite, “sticking to the facts” kind of way. Or not. I curse on Fridays. I suppose I’m a bit of a troll, though I like to think I’m fighting on the side of the angel. I tend to target political big names who don’t notice me screaming at them from the void.

While I was fighting the good online fight, Microsoft updated things without so much as a “by your leave” and now I have changes I hate to deal with. Including in Word. I remind myself that resisting change is a sign of aging. I believe that wholeheartedly. I’m still not listening to Cardi B as the main attraction.

Further puttering leads to (re)reading, painting not great art, climbing stairs to nowhere periodically, and lamenting over the decrepitude that surrounds me. I’m starting to suspect I won’t be getting magic powers which means I have to deal with house issues. I’m glad things started to time out at a moment in history when choosing what to have for lunch overwhelms me.

I’ve also recently changed one of my meds. As in, we dropped it. I’m now starting to dissociate more. But I can’t decide if I’m dissociating more because I’m dissociating more, or I’m “dissociating” more because I know it’s a possibility because we’re no longer taking the PTSD drug. Maybe I’m not actually dissociating at all.

I struggle sometimes with what’s real.

For instance, I think I might be having a problem with my kidneys. I’ve been thinking that for several months now. Because of symptoms. And escalating symptoms. But then, I suffer from anxiety. And I know I suffer from anxiety. Anxiety can make me think I’m sick. The whole thing could be in my head. And in my legs which are now periodically cramping in my sleep. So, it could be real. But it could be conversion and I hate to be a bother. My eating disorder is not interested in visiting with the doctor until we’ve lost ten pounds anyway.

She’s been outvoted. The leg cramps and joint pain sealed the deal. I now have a doctor’s appointment. On the phone. Because that’s how we roll now.

On the bright side, navigating the COVID world to obtain laboratory tests should be interesting. Except for the part where I have to leave my house for the unfamiliar.  

* The Carpenters – We’ve Only Just Begun