It’s a beautiful Saturday morning with clear skies, bright sunshine, and a gentle breeze. I’m sitting on the deck looking out into the backyard, watching that breeze tease the Pampas grass plumes that reach some eight feet high. I should be rejoicing in the simple beauty of that scene, content with my surroundings and glad to be here. But the fact is, I don’t give a shit.
For the past several days, after seeing the therapist for the first time last Wednesday, I’ve been trying mightily to stay upbeat and positive. I’ve forced myself into the workshop to work on the several projects I have started there. I got out and cut the grass yesterday; something I usually enjoy doing, but it was just a chore that had to be done. Jonathan stopped over Wednesday after work and stayed for dinner, which was a real pleasure, but that only underscored the fact that he has his own life to live and I am now just a small part of it. Mary has had a rough start to the new school year and I try to stay sympathetic and lend her the ear she needs and offer the encouragement she deserves, but it is very difficult when my mind is elsewhere mired down in my own miasma of depression.
I thought I was getting through this funk I’m in since I felt more energetic for a couple days, but that seems to have been a false illusion. Just writing this down is taking a huge amount of energy and concentration, energy and concentration that I feel is misspent since no one is reading this claptrap anyway. Normally on such a beautiful day I would be on the golf course. But right now I don’t care if I ever play golf again. The fact that my hands tremble too much when I try to hold a golf club may have something to do with it. This time of year is always exciting for a sports fan like me, but I find that I can’t muster the enthusiasm to cheer for the Brewers who are fighting for their division title for the first time in many years, can’t get riled up about the UW Badgers who are playing a primetime game on national tv tonight, can’t find it in myself to be concerned about the Packers and their game on Sunday. In other years at this time I would be glued to the tv, anxiously sweating out all those games. But now I just don’t care.
I need to get my mojo back, and soon. I don’t like the place I’m in right now and need to find the door that leads out of this place. I’m looking for it, but without too much commitment. I just can’t roust myself to try harder. I can’t seem to get on the right track. I just need someone to kick me in the ass and make me get up and do it. I don’t like where this is taking me. I hate feeling like this.