Tick, Tick, Tap
Ugh Monday. Back at work and listening to the incessant tick and tap of fingers on keyboards. For whatever reason, I can’t find my focus today. I feel like I’ve been hit with a sledgehammer and I’m just two stars short of a full circle around my head. I’m ready to just kick back and pass out so I’m loading up on caffeine today.
So I posted something on facecrack today about finding a minute to mediate. The method seems to work so I’ve been trying to use it and wanted to share it for others. Just not today, which is why my post is rambling.
Anyway, on my drive in to work this morning I started thinking about some of my favorite things; music, photography, boobs, books, movies and not necessarily in that order. More importantly, why I’m not able to find any peace in doing things that make me happy. I’ve read book about it, been to a shrink about it and seen a therapist about it…still no love. It’s like I’ve hit a roadblock where my mind wants some escape, but but my body just won’t let it climb out.
So in an effort to get the creative juices flowing, I’m trying to write something, every day if possible, but at least twice a week. At least my therapist agrees that if I do this, it might work out the kinks in my brain and slowly ease me out of this deep freaking depression that I can’t shake. It also helps that a close friend made me this awesome journal to write in as well.
Let’s start there shall we, because I’m about as sick writing that word as I am feeling the associated “Debbie Downer” moods that go with it. Depression. It sucks and I’m more tired of it than anyone can possibly stand. It takes your energy, your love of things, life itself and just stomps the shit out of it. It’s been a couple years now since my Dad, Uncle and Cousin passed all in rapid succession. So why can’t I get BEYOND all of that? What the hell is holding me down that I just can’t get past? Slowly, it’s releasing it’s hold over me, but there are just these remnants that are stifling me and I’m beyond being over all of it.
Starting today, it ends. I’m done with it. Come hell or high water, I will not allow this thing to consume anymore of my precious life I have left here on Earth. I may not know exactly how, but I’m kicking the shit out of this thing and getting on with being me again. I think this coincides with my decision on Sunday to never buy another 3x article of clothing in my life ever again. It all just happens to be on this “Spring Forward” weekend that I came to this decision to stop screwing around and get my shit in order. Maybe I needed that fresh change in the time and the crisp cool weather to slap me in the face. Maybe it was the awesome night out with friends and the wife. Maybe I’m just over that hill in the slump and I’m on my way to recovery. Moreso, I think it’s been the wonderful support of my family and friends.
I’ve been eating better, less and more conscience of what goes into my pie hole. I’ve been exercising and walking to the point that my poor arthritic knee thinks I’m out of my freaking mind. I’ve been reading more and sleeping less. But that was just the beginning. Big Papa’s got a brand new bag of tricks now and it’s about to get ugly up in here. By this time next year I plan to be lighter, happier and funnier than ever. I plan to be me again.
There has just come a point to where I can’t do this anymore. I can not be without “me” and live my life. I’m tired of people feeling sorry for me. I’m tired of having no ambition. I’m tired of feeling like I’ve been beat to death emotionally. I’m tired of being tired.
Bring it on.