Sure they had addictive drugs in the 80s, but Netflix acts like your friend and tells you what you want. Did cocaine ever introduce you to House of Cards?

So as you could tell from yesterday’s entry, I’ve been embroiled in this deeply uncharismatic ennui of late. Really, I should know better. Such quotidian feelings are just soooo pedestrian. I thought settling in for a day of domesticity would be the perfect antidote. All day though I’ve felt lethargic. By time a late breakfast rolled around, I was yawning into my bowl. Walking to the supermarket I wasn’t so much grumpy as drained. Wading through crunchy leaves with my girlfriend should’ve been worth a whole lot more enjoyment than a flat can’t be fucked. Roaming through the aisles of the supermarket felt like a chore. This is significant, I love supermarkets. I love wandering around and picking up bits and pieces. Finding something that’d go really well with something else, making matches in my head of potential excellent future food combos is one of my favourite pastimes (behind eating said food combos), but it wasn’t helping. Worse, my energy was flailing, I practically collapsed onto the shopping trolley. Slumped over, I picked up the things I came for and got into line. We were set, we got my usual weekly essentials plus a wonderfully plump pork loin. Then it dawned on me, we had a late breakfast but no lunch plans. Real problems right here. It seems trivial, but that was the tipping point.

In my exhausted state, finding something that fit was all too much. When I want a certain type of taste or texture, little else will do. Thing was, I had zero idea what I wanted. Cup noodles? Soup? Nothing seemed right (yes I realise they were only 2 options of potential infinite choices, but I was in a state here). I didn’t want to think about it so I just kind of stopped while my girlfriend gave helpful suggestions. None of which I took. It all just washed over me while my brain fired up. Why does any of it matter? It’s just food. Food won’t make you better. It’s a temporary release that does nothing to salve real issues. What, do you think that having a big ham sandwich will quash this surging inability to process your anxieties and concerns in a mature, sensible manner? Then recognition hit me – shut up brain, you’re right. I do want a big ham sandwich!

So I had a big ham sandwich. It was delicious. Cheese, grilled mushrooms, thick ham steak, sriracha, pickles and coriander all on a toasted bun. My bitch of an internal dialogue was right though. It did nothing to solve my mood. It was like putting a bandage over a gaping wound and crossing my fingers in hopes that everything would work out fine. It was only a matter of time until blood started seeping through. Of course my girlfriend noticed and we tried talking it over, but I didn’t know what to tell her. I wasn’t grumpy, but my mood wasn’t conducive to silly happy times. We lay down and I felt a headache coming on. Recognition hit once again. Have I had any water today?

Turns out I was massively dehydrated. No wonder I was a moody, shambling mess. A couple of sips perked me up and after draining most of a bottle, felt better. Better’s a relative term though, right? Better doesn’t mean fixed, it means in a preferable position to the previous one. I felt more awake, alert, but it’s no party without balloons and I was finding it hard to be buoyant.

I can pull out excuses like “something’s just off today” or “perhaps I need to drink some water”, but that’d be cheapening the underlying condition. To be frank, I don’t even know what that is. It’s not like cataclysmic events are happening in my life. I can cope just fine, I’ve never had a problem with that. The world will continue to turn on its axis. I’ll get up and go to work, hang out with friends and get in with my life, but that won’t shirk off whatever I’m weathering right now. There are some things that’ve happened around me (as yesterday’s VagueBooking alluded to) and I’m still not sure how to react to them or deal with them. My body and mind have switched into processing mode meaning I’ve retracted a lot. There are things I’m thinking about that concern others in my life. I’m not sure I have a right to write on this stuff in a public place, or at least so soon. That in itself is taxing, because it’s no secret I often use this space as a place to work through events in my life. Losing that feels like I’ve been stripped of a go-to coping mechanism and I’m scrabbling for something to take its place. What do I do? Wait till January when my therapy budget kicks back in? Of course not. I’ll do what I usually do and take some time off, focus and concentrate, work it out in my own time.

Also TV binges, because that’s what escapism looks like these days.


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