I woke up this morning feeling apathetic, which is a pretty predictable cycle in my world. I tend to have two really good days, followed by a lower one. (And thus far, my psychiatrist is at a loss regarding how to explain it.)
For lack of a diagnosis for this phenomenon, he has been encouraging me (for several years now) to return to traditional “talk therapy”; but after I was betrayed by my last therapist — which did significant damage to my professional life — I haven’t had the heart to look for another one.
Trust, in my world, is a deep and complicated thing. I give it freely — and upfront — in all of my relationships; but once that trust is broken, a person becomes dead to me (unless they’re family, and can’t be easily tossed aside). Thus, my track record with therapists has left me not wanting to re-enter that type of an association. (This, unfortunately, is a common problematic theme with Borderlines.)
I’ve also been dealing with moderate back pain for the last couple of days, and was forced to defend my “agnostic” approach to twelve-step programs last night in a meeting (which I did vehemently)… add all of that up, and the steering wheel that guides my emotions was rife for the taking — and it seems F*ck It Hamster was eager to step up to the task.
This same time yesterday morning, I was already back from an extended workout at the gym, showered and doing laundry. Since I’m not in that same position today, it’s tempting to flog myself emotionally for not adhering to my usual routine… an activity that will lead to negative direction and/or choices, rather than positive.
The only rational thing to do is to summon the energy to overthrow the fuzzy lil’ apathetic bastard currently directing my train of thought, and fight my way towards the opposite path… but right now? I just can’t seem to summon the energy needed for such a coup.
I’d rather sulk, and hit the mod with an unbridled enthusiasm for a nicotine high… but sadly, that doesn’t seem to be improving things much either.
If I want things to get better today, I have to hit the mark for at least one of my goals; because as Mitchell Tenpenny sings, “Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” and sadly, I have neither.
Let’s see if I can summon the strength required to knock the arrow, pull back the bowstring, and hurtle myself out of the recliner, shall we? Ugh…