Seeking joy and meaning in a joyless mind and meaningless existence

Friday, November 8, 2013

Don't Ask Me Why

I had a total breakdown in my mood this afternoon.  I was actually crying on the drive home from work.  I had all but given up on my sobriety and then, inevitably, was shadowed by darker impulses that haunt me still.
When I used to share these moods with others, they invariably asked "Why?" and "What's wrong?"  But those questions rarely have any meaning for me.  That's the problem.  I have to constantly distract myself in order to see life as anything but unmitigated suffering—for myself and every other living thing, and my mood is constantly in danger of drowning in a sea of emotion.  It's no wonder I have the personality of an impulsive, insatiable addict.  I must constantly infuse my psyche with hits of pleasure to keep from disintegrating into worry and despair.  I run around in a constant, desperate flurry of effort to pique my interest and find enjoyment in something, anything.  Besides, it's not as if you have to look very far for things to make you unhappy, with all the indignities of life and the ceaseless burden of conscious existence.
Personal Roundup
I am frustrated by my attempts at weight loss.  I've been doing all the right things as far as my exercise program, but I wonder if I undo it all at the 11th hour with my evening binge eating.  I'm not sure if I've lost weight; I'm too scared to weigh myself.  If the scales tell me I'm just the same after almost three weeks of intensive effort, I'm pretty sure I'd give up completely.  When I look in the mirror, all I see is literally a disgusting sack of fat.  It hasn't given me hope that my hard work is being rewarded by positive change.