Today is such a bleak day. I decided to write because it was the only thing I could feel like I can engage in and enjoy. All my usual hobbies I cannot seem to enjoy, the gym has lost its lust for now, and this cloud weighing me down seems burdensome. It all came on suddenly after doing chores, a couple of business calls, and trying to play my guitar. My interests wander, not really staying the same consistently, the ups and downs; wish it would stay on an even keel.
Ideas and temporary happy feelings come, I think it’s a great idea and could go for it, then a day later, it’s gone. Back to square one. The thought of going back to college to get another degree has been brought up to me to get a good job, or just finding a job; the first doesn’t keep my interest and the second, nothing has panned out. I have a degree now but it got me nowhere it seems.
There seems to be no agenda or not much to look forward to daily. I get chores and errands done still, but that isn’t saying much. Everyone does that stuff. People get excited to suggest I do this or that with another college degree or apply for a certain job and I feel like I need to just get excited to make them feel better. If I have to fake it , then why go for it? Tired of faking happy, or faking the feeling of being content. Tired of trying to feel excited about things I am not excited about. Tired of trying to force myself to feel happy, or force myself to goto the gym. It’s a lot of work just to fake all that.
I fear this feeling daily. It comes once I am done with what I am doing for the day. Not enough productivity to keep me busy. The gym, and guitar, and writing did it for a while, now it’s not enough or I cannot get into it. What is with that feeling? Is it my PTSD or Bipolar making me feel this way? Why can I not will this thinking away? Why is it that every time I look out at the common buildings in my town and the city itself, I am disgusted with it? It looks so boring and uninspiring. Sometimes , just looking out the window, looks like crap. Not sure why just the thought of leaving the house seems not interesting, like there is nothing out there for me to do or see? I didn’t used to be this way but here I am, drowning in it.