Seeking joy and meaning in a joyless mind and meaningless existence

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Living in Quiet Despair

I have been desperately struggling with my mood for I don't know how long.  I was jazzed with the idea of making some positive changes in my life at the new year, but my depression has made short work of it.  My energy level is so depleted it is all I can do to get out of bed in the morning and go to work.  (I spent the entirety of the last two weekends in bed.)  I've also gone back to my bad habits.  But the reason I blow my sobriety by drinking, or blow my diet by eating crap, or blow my budget by spending money on stuff I can't afford, is that I'm frantic for anything that will give me any amount of pleasure.  My unhappiness devours all of my best intentions in exchange for brief glimmers of pleasure.
My only saving grace is that I live in quiet despair.  I don't really drag anyone else (anymore) into my struggles to keep my head above water.  I just silently let the crush of time slide me further into obsolescence and oblivion, pouring all of my angst into a blog no one—not even my closest family or friends—actually reads.

Dark Thoughts

But a lack of pleasure isn't the bottom floor of my seasonally-affected disordered mind.  I teeter on the terrifying ledge of plummeting into the canyon of a panic attack and occasionally grapple with more sinister, borderline schizo intrusions such as a vision of a solipsistic apocalypse.