First, remember this: I got through Saturday morning more cheerful than I started, so look forward to a happy ending.
But to dive right in, I have been fighting the blahs for at least three months. I mean, any long-term reader who sees the subtext of some of my manic posts probably realizes that I’ve been squabbling with the blahs for a long time, but now I’m back to Not Getting Adult Things Done.
I’ve tried analyzing the reasons, and there are plenty of good ones for being depressed.
- The Corona Crisis. Lots of Twitter writers are talking about how the world zeitgeist has messed up their writing and their motivation in general.
- The Climate Crisis. Yeah, that’s another horrible thing happening that I can’t do much about personally. I have done something: I hung up reed curtains on the south porches to block some of the heat. I can do a little more: spend time in the creepy basement cleaning it up in case we wind up needing to sleep down there.
- Body. They say you can’t escape your body. I have been working hard the last two years to increase my strength and stamina . . . but that also means a lot of meditation, rest and good food. I have been successful. It’s much easier to go shopping now, for example. Walking around the store with a cart isn’t the marathon that it sometimes felt like. My current condition is day three after a major garden day. My ribs still hurt from twisting and pulling weeds, but I could go out for an hour or two. If I rest for the rest of the day, I can have another Major Garden Day tomorrow, and then be knocked out for another two days.
- A neighbor lady died of heat stroke recently. Her funeral was today. Her family said she wasn’t feeling well, and went to bed without supper. The next morning, she wasn’t breathing. She’s only three years older than my mother-in-law, and it WASN’T THAT HOT. We’re working on it; we’re processing it. A lot of my imagination is going to into jellied salads and interior decorating of creepy basements. Poor woman; may she rest in peace, and her family be comforted.
So, you see, I have good reasons to feel down. But I can’t help but suspect there are a lot of great writers out there who feel down, and they USE that to write great, wonderful things. Their writing is therapy, and a joy and comfort . . . and it goes out in the world to help other people. I want to do that!
Except, obviously, I don’t. I haven’t written anything but blogs for weeks.
So, I was feeling very down today, and like I wanted to go back to bed and stay there until I can get a vaccination appointment.
My friend also had a tough week, and she invited me to offer some advice about cooking (after some major hinting on my part).
Readers, I spent a half an hour hunched over a nasty little keyboard and had the best time detailing a plan for learning how to cook. Gosh, how it lifted my spirits and made me feel like I was doing good in the world!
So, that’s how I made it to 3 p.m. on a sunny summer Saturday. I did something I liked doing, instead of what I was supposed to be doing. It’s worth a shot if you are in blah territory, too.