The mind is a bitch.
Or maybe just life is a bitch.
Whatever, I’m pretty depressed today. I don’t use the term lightly, I’m using it today because I know that I have literally nothing to be unhappy about. And I am not happy, veering between nearly murdering my cat and nearly crying at work.
I’ve recovered from a long period of being REALLY depressed, with damn good reason. 10 years ago my daughter was born, I had a great job, was married and generally feeling very happy with life. The marriage ended, redundancy visited and stayed way too long, I got into debt, wandered and suffered for along time. But 3 years ago I turned 40 and everything started to lift. I went to college, got a decent job, moved back closer to my daughter and generally got my shit together. It was hard and I did get perilously close to the bottom, but today I own a house, have an even better job, a new girlfriend of 1 year, a great car and everything is sorted.
Yet today, right now, I feel as I did in the middle of my struggles and there is no clear reason for it. So, by way of therapy I’m going to clear out my mental drawer and see what lurks.
Firstly, what did I lose in the struggle?
Well, 2 weeks after finishing college I lost my Dad. This occurrence seemed to be a catalyst for me to improve. Not least because after 7 years of poverty, there was an inheritance. Almost overnight I had no debt, moved from a borrowed car to a nice car. Channelled him to be better at work and did well because of it. Emotionally, he was a good guy and I didn’t hate him but I had weighed out his role in my life long before he went and so I don’t feel like it really cost me too much. I was sad to lose him, but that was always going to happen someday.
Also, in the midst of my troubles I turned to music to heal me. I made 5 albums that had been buried within me and that was an amazing thing to be able to realise. Unquestionably my saviour at that time, having ‘recovered’ I don’t really have much to say in terms of music anymore, so there could be a loss there. I still have music, I play in a covers band now and I love it, particularly the lack of trying to achieve something from it. We just play the songs we like and we really enjoy it. I really enjoy it.
I have this new girl, and she is a remarkable person. Strong, confident full of life and life experience. She’s been up and down, she’s drunk wine in the graveyard and tea in The Ritz. She’s a lot like me. But I do feel like I have lost my insularity. There is safety in just bashing girls from Tinder and moving on every month or so. There’s very little risk. That isn’t really a loss I think, although the trauma of my failed marriage ran off with my untroubled hard-ons. Now that is a loss! Thank heavens for Cialis. This girl is a risk, simply because we’re a year in and starting to make plans. The building of towers scares me, because I know the pain of watching them fall down before my eyes.
And then six months ago I also lost my Mum. She gave me all the things I hate about myself. She ruined all the things I wanted the most when I was young. Still, it wasn’t bitter regret I felt when she died. Neither was it terrible sadness. I’m not sure that I know how I feel about it, even now. Not too much really. She got ill when I was on holiday last year, and my immediate thought was of a time when I was ill at school. I had torn the tendons in my knees aged around 13. The doctors gave me crutches and told me to take 2 weeks off school. She balked at their advice and sent me back in the next day. It was all I could think about, faced with the possibility of having to cut our holiday short. I hadn’t even remembered that for years and years, but suddenly it was in sharp focus. I guess that sums up my relationship with my Mum.
Overwhelmingly, today I’m aware of a lack of desire. I went to the shops earlier to get food, and strolled around the Mall looking at stuff that I don’t need, hoping to find something that I wanted. But I want for nothing. I desire nothing at all on the material plain, and to be honest even the emotional plain is dry for me now. I love my girlfriend, I really do. But I could count on one hand the amount of times in the last 6 months that I really wanted to get it on. I used to be such a hound too, I even had a sketchy nickname based on my libido. I’ve disowned it now.
I have no previous experience of this feeling. I’ve always wanted something. Usually with intensity. I’m in a proper fugue at the moment. An unexplainable miasma.
The only obvious thing I can point to is that I am not getting enough sleep. Not a dangerously low amount but definitely not enough. I suppose that’s a pretty good place to start to fight this feeling, so I’m going to bed very soon.
Maybe that’ll help. It certainly can’t hurt.