By 9:30 this morning I was done. I'd walked two dogs, in the snow. Gotten two kids, one of them exceedingly grumpy, up and out to school before 8. I had an impromptu meeting with the parent coordinator and then another with the guidance counselor. I made my bed, cleaned the kitchen, gotten loads of laundry together.
I filled up my hot water bottle (my favorite gift ever and most prized possession), surrounded myself with too many fuzzy pillows, and got back in bed. And slept.
I can't face anything right now.
I can't do, accomplish, plan, organize, create.
I'm shutting down.
It's not depression, but it's beyond lethargy.
I feel like there's nothing to look forward to. Nothing exciting coming up. No projects due. No work to immerse myself in. Yes, there's plenty I could do, but I can't.
I literally can't.
I can't remember what it's like to make things happen. And if there's one thing I know how to do it's that. But I've lost the ability, the drive, the impetus. It's like I've hit the middle ages of myself (OH, that just made me laugh) and don't know when the renaissance is going to hit.
No, this isn't a mid-life thing. I guess it's a mid-kidney thing. It's a gloomy day thing. It's a feeling lost thing.
I'm used to having a purpose, a goal. But right now I don't have one. I'm on the verge of a huge thing—but who knows when that'll happen. Or if. When I'm feeling like this, standing at the edge of negativity, it's almost impossible to fight its pull.
Today I don't want to fight.
At least I know this won't last forever. Hopefully it won't last very long.