Totally lacking energy right now… nothing to say. Try to do things and they don’t work. Write a blog post and there’s nothing to blog about. Read a book and it’s full of dry bits. Friends and family on Facebook no closer than they were. Makes you wonder what Facebook is for.
I prefer quiet conversations with just one person at a time.
Sometimes feels as though life is something you are forced to do when you would rather keep out of it! There is no way you can say “I don’t want to do this, thanks…. I don’t have the right kind of brain.” I always wanted my life to be a book I could learn from without being hurt in any way.
I’m the heroine of my own story, and I don’t like it at all. I’d much rather read about it.
At the end of the novel I would turn round and be at home with my family. No other kind of existence is imaginable.
But for now the book is still open…. the next chapter could be filled with masked highwaymen (or did we just have that one?) Or howling wolves in a cold Scottish forest (think I’ve done that one as well). Or a shipwreck, and pirate’s treasure. Or there’ll be a hobbit and a gold ring.
Is that all just wistful thinking?
I meant to put up a completely different post today, but we went out for supper and I’m still working on it. To fill in the gap, here’s my Saturday journal entry (edited):
Saturday 10th January 2009
I’m contrary; I sleep in when we’re going out, and get up early when we’re loafing. I spent most of the day reading (and finishing) Sole Survivor by Dean Koontz. It was quite good but I’ve developed the habit of skipping over the acres of text where he spins out the tension. Sometimes I enjoy those bits, but other times I just want to get on with the story.
I have been very sleepy all day — fell so much asleep after supper that my head kept falling forward. I don’t know how Mum dozes in her chair without doing that.
Checked the email quickly and found dozens of posts saying my Amazon DVDs are coming like a flock of geese. “Just shipped: Emma. Just shipped: Galaxy Quest. Just shipped: Charlotte’s Web.” So far I’ve not seen one saying they’ve shipped The Postman. Will he be delivered by Royal Mail?
That’s all the time I spent online, except a quick look at a site (same disappointing prices) which had a Product Recall of a child’s toy with a too-long strap (might choke the children). That’s ridiculous… there’s danger everywhere, every day, all around us. We all face it.
Only ‘significant’ thing of today was my dream this morning. Thor went out at night by himself, and next morning we found he had come face to face (in a dark lane) with something that terrified him so much that he arched his back, fluffed up his tail, bristled his whiskers, and yowled — he froze stiff like that and died. When we found him, I was regretful and sad, and angry with whoever had so coldly killed him.
Then when I got up and went downstairs, and was reading Sole Survivor, there was a hissy spat in the corner of the room… Cheeky was terrorizing Delilah, who was hiding under a chair. At first I wasn’t going to interfere, as Cheeky usually strolls away after the initial ambush… but then my dream stirred in me with a pang: how something evil had gone after my cat when I wasn’t around to help him. I got up and walked over, and Cheeky left the room.
Mum gave me her perfume bottle collection — reeking of rank old perfumes, some of which have leaked. You’d think I’d be pleased, but er…
I’ve been trying to get over my case of the winter blahs.
Yesterday it was bright and sunny, so I went shopping… but it didn’t help much; just made me realize how lethargic and fed up I still felt. I was tired of visiting the same old shops, and there wasn’t anything I was looking for, especially now that my house is set up and inventoried – still looking for someone to rent it.
Stumbling across the road, yawning, I suddenly thought how different my attitude was from some months ago when I was feeling distinctly agoraphobic – unable to go anywhere without wobbling slightly. And now I was bored with the entire place. It’s an improvement! That Chinese saying “may you live in interesting times” is supposed to be a curse.
Feeling flat, tired, and bored out of your skull is another type of curse, however.
I’ve got these lovely kittens, getting friendlier and more playful by the day; I’m getting very fond of them but you would think I would be brighter than I am. I feel guilty because I know one day I will be looking back to now and wishing I could have these days all over again. Fear of the future…
Today I got a letter, tore it open, and it was an invoice from the animal hospital reminding me that I still haven’t paid for the last item on the list… ‘euthanize and cremate cat – quantity: 1.’
Looking at that, I didn’t feel as though I’d received a nasty shock out of nowhere – it was more as though someone had pressed a fist into a sore that was already there. It convinces me that what I have is not purely the winter blues.
One way or another, I was saying to Geosomin that one might as well give in to this listlessness – relax, read books and watch TV. Unfortunately my Freeview set top box has gone phut. Again.
There are still books, of course – I’m currently reading Snow Falling on Cedars by David Guterson. It’s very good, and I’m impressed and engrossed by the amount of detail – except that there’s a touch too much detail here and there that causes my attention to wander. I bought it from a charity shop for £1, and there’s a slight tear on the margin more than halfway down p79. Looking at the content of that page, I have to say it made me wonder…
The paperbacks I bought today:
The Mask of Ra – Paul Doherty
A Winter Book – Tove Jansson
Brother Odd – Dean Koontz
Don’t Bet on the Prince – Jack Zipes (ed, I think)
They were £2 each (except for the Jack Zipes, which was £1.99 from another shop), and each of the £2 ones had a big yellow sticker on the cover saying something like “read then return”. I peeled them off, saying crossly to Mum that part of the money they get from us is probably spent on these stupid stickers. I suppose my peeling them off doesn’t slow the money burn, but I don’t like stickers on books. When I return them to the charity shops, I’ll choose one that doesn’t do that.
We were roaming round that same charity shop – I looked at the shirts and blouses, and there was a rather droopy, worn looking T-shirt on a hanger for £4.50. It looked as though it cost £2 new. As for the DVDs, I’ve always had my doubts about them – they tend to be about £4 each, but Woolworth quite often sells them for £3 each. They’ve probably had a bit of a price hike since hitting the charity shop shelves. Mum picked up a £4 DVD and said “that is definitely £3 brand new from WH Smiths – I saw it today!”
Caveat emptor. Or just go home to sleep. Both methods save money.
How to bypass your brain and get motivated is great stuff – I need to do something like this as I’m a terrible procrastinator. Well, there’s already some external structure in my life – if I don’t walk the dog (getting exercise) I don’t get paid. Meeting the family in town for coffee stops me from skulking at home thinking “I can’t be bothered to go to the bank today. I will definitely do it tomorrow. Unless it’s Saturday. In which case I’ll go on Monday.” And then on Monday morning I fall over and break my foot and can’t go anywhere.
That sort of thing always happens to me! At least if I know that I WILL be in town once a week to meet the others for a coffee, I can do my town-going things then. To make sure of it I tell them “after coffee I have to go to the bank,” and they factor it into our plans for the morning.
The other day I was reading a blog where someone said she had trouble even getting up for a shower, and she thought it might be depression. This sobered me as I’m just the same. Some days I stand in the shower with the water streaming through my hair, staring dully at the tiles. After about five minutes I realize to my consternation that I can’t even be bothered to soap myself! But you can’t stand shrivelling up in the shower all day, so eventually you creak into life and fumble for the shower gel and shampoo.
I don’t think it’s depression, as I’m not unhappy – I’m content in my own way. I’m happy with my family, my house, my pets, where I live. I’m happy with my work, though I could do with more of it. I laugh at what I read in books or see on TV, and I enjoy my hobbies, which have not turned to ashes in my mouth. If one day you couldn’t care less about things that you used to feel strongly about, you know you’re in trouble. I’m not in that place.
I just seem to lack energy and motivation.
The other day, out of the blue, Mum said “I think… in fact I’m almost sure… you have an underactive thyroid.”
I was so surprised I laughed, as I hadn’t been discussing my problems with her. But she said “I’m serious – it might explain why you’re so tired all the time.”
“Well,” I said, “I assumed that would be poor diet – eating too many convenience dishes from the supermarket, and not enough ‘healthy’ stuff.”
“Maybe,” said Mum, “but you should still get it checked out. It IS in the family.”
I went home and looked up ‘hypothyroidism’ on the internet. All of the symptoms fit, including apathy, poor memory, feeling the cold, dry skin (which could be due to hot shower and central heating?) and brittle nails. My nails are normally as hard as iron, but I broke three only the week before. They’re wishy-washy symptoms that could be due to other things such as poor diet and late nights, and I wondered at what point does one go to the doctor saying “I’m tired, cold, broke my nails and can’t be bothered half the time – am I ill?”
I still don’t know the answer to that question. I suppose I should ask the doctor what she thinks. My Reader’s Digest medical book warns that if I’ve got it and don’t treat it, I’ll lapse into self-neglect, coma and death. So I’ll go tomorrow. Or the day after. Or sometime next week – unless I’m busy.