Still in my blogging novitiate, I realize I have struggled to maintain a decent upkeep (nor can I figure out the damned Gravatar nonsense…how the heck do I follow the few and the lovely who have dared to follow me so early on?). This night, however, demanded a space to spread out my worries and fears in word-form, though I apologize in advance for the humbled stance I am about to take; I do not propose to offer any worthy insight or opinion, but simply need to un-junk my mind a bit before bedtime.
Let’s not beat around the bush: I am SAD. Not to brag, but I have it all:
- Increased appetite with weight gain
- Increased sleep
- Less energy and ability to concentrate
- Loss of interest in work or other activities
- Sluggish movements
- Social withdrawal
- Unhappiness and irritability
Hopelessness. The first on the list, and just the word that meandered into my head today. I feel hopeless, generally, but have had that feeling exacerbated by the first graduate school rejection I received the other day. There is nothing to do but wait for the rest of the notifications, which I fear will be the same. Until then, I can’t apply to any full-time positions or restart the grad school application process. Waiting kills.
Likewise, I can’t concentrate on building my writing portfolio because I’m too depressed to focus, and too distracted by my worrying to commit to any creative project for more than a few minutes at a time–a generous estimation in itself. Plus, I’ve become a recluse, another facet of this awful funk I’ve gotten myself into, again, exacerbated by the unrelenting bite of winter. How can I occupy myself with friends and engaging activities when I can’t even leave my house?
Today, I literally did nothing, and by noontime I could feel my eyes closing with a centuries-old tiredness, later complaining to my coworkers of my exhaustion (during a three-hour shift, to women who work full-time AND have the
strain joy of children piled atop their day-to-day requisite mundanities). And it is safe to say I have been categorically unhappy and irritable to anyone who dares to offer me a kind, or even civil, slice of small talk.
To top it all off, for the past few weeks I have been carrying around the most unattractive paunch, very spare-tire-esque. I can’t shake it (well….), and worst is, my depression and boredom only makes me turn to food and drink more. And strangely enough, I mentioned all these things, including how late I’ve been sleeping in compared to my usual early-bird circadian rhythm, to my coworkers today, and just looked up that list of SAD symptoms a moment ago. I should probably become a psychotherapist. (Already halfway there!)
Now that I’ve laid it all out, it should be a cinch to combat. Right?
I will find the peace I need simply by doing…anything. The kicker is, I have to somehow summon up that energy from out of the depths of my lugubriousness.
Thus manifests the challenge I face now. My resolution for this was to make up a to-do list every day, so that I’d have a concrete measure of focus and feel accomplished if I could cross off even a single item. As my coworker so wisely informed me, I will not have the luxury of boredom in the near future if things work out for me in the end, and so I should use this opportunity to do now the things I’ll want to do then but will not have time for. Simple things: sorting through and scrap-booking the pictures from my trip to Europe, cleaning out my closet, drawing (for these last two, see my previous blog, New Year), etc. I sincerely should be using this down-time to generate new written work but that might be too much to ask of my cluttered mind right now, so the lighter fare will have to do. Once I achieve that inner peace, my brain should unclog and the writing should flow more naturally.