Melancholy. I’m listening to a lot of Adele and Heart and Pat Benatar, all sappy stuff. I feel off lately, and I can’t figure out what it’s from. Maybe a little SAD (seasonal affective disorder), that shows up every winter. Maybe a side effect from a long boring cold for the last two weeks. Maybe loneliness; I was going to have a cool roomie, and she flaked out on me.
But I think there’s something more fundamental happening. I have a nagging feeling that something is wrong in my world. I should be doing something, and I’m not. I’m doing lots of cool stuff – my job is really good, I’m playing a bunch of soccer, dancing some, making some progress on fixing up my new home. But my body feels depressed, and that makes me eat a lot of junk. Which, of course, doesn’t help.
I feel like I’m going through the motions, but my heart isn’t in it. And if you’ve read the rest of this blog, you know how important that is to me. Twenty years ago I was around California pagan hippies, and they spoke of right livelihood (Buddhism) and self-actualization (Maslow’s hierarchy). I was starting the process of finding my body through massage therapy and other forms of bodywork. I came to the East coast to chase the possibility of a long term relationship. And over the next few years, my world started slowly collapsing in on itself. I finally got out of a relationship that had become abusive in every way except physical.
The last five years plus have been devoted to completing school and reinventing myself. Exploring new possibilities. Figure skating. Swimming. Many forms of dance. Tennis. A little acting. Dabble in piano. All good and wonderful activities. But it isn’t enough. Or the right one. Do I know the right answer, and I’m just afraid of admitting it? Or haven’t I found it yet?
I’m truly fortunate to have options to choose from, and not just be scrounging for raw survival. And yet I can’t help but expect much bigger things from myself. Is that just thinly veiled ego? Hubris?