Aimless but Still Here

Photo by Pixabay: https://www.pexels.com/photo/green-tree-268533/

Aimless. I feel like I am adrift. Like a twig or stick thrown by a young child into that rushing torrent of a stream. The stick, being tossed to and fro in the froth of the current, still moves forward yet occasionally being stuck on a rock or a log across the stream. Eventually it is tossed free and continuing down the same path of life. 

I sometimes feel that I am moving on a rather tedious day to day journey. Getting up, commuting, working, commuting, going to bed, rinse and repeat ... like a bad 80s shampoo commercial. Breck, Pert, Prell, name your choice. Hahaha. 😛

After all, it was Tony Soprano from the series, “The Sopranos”  who made a disturbingly accurate statement about life: “It’s all a series of distractions until you die." Well if that isn’t depressing, then I don’t know what is.

I have always been very motivated with my writing, but not so much as of late. And it gets me very sad. Just no motivation. I’m trying to get out of it, shake off the funk. I figured maybe writing about it would help. Or at least keep my juices flowing. I don’t like writing negatively though. People who read it tend to think if you write about a negative topic, that’s all you are about. I’m not, but just have this mental blockage I can’t shake off.  

It is also a very strange time for humanity. With Covid being over or mutating into another form, and other depressing stuff taking over like Ukraine, gas prices, inflation and Monkey Pox, no wonder people are more depressed and out of it. People are having a hard time coping. More people are coming forth with depression, anxiety and worse. I don’t have it half as bad as some others. There are a lot of people worse off than me so I keep counting my blessings and keep trying to move forward.

I do think anxiety and insecurity are a part of it. People, including myself, tend to start getting into their own “heads”, fall down that slippery rabbit hole. It’s so tough to climb out sometimes. Am I good enough? Why aren’t I more successful? Is this what life is truly about … just existing? Maybe Tony Soprano is right? I sure hope not.

I have been occupying my time with some side hustles. Going through antiques and selling them. Bartending more. Organizing continuously for Maine. Yard work here and there. And then emerging with countless bruises, scrapes and scratches. It's no wonder I haven't contracted bubonic plague yet from the soil. Oh yes and on a positive note, I’m also propagating lemon seeds to grow my own lemon trees. Hahaha, gotta love Tiktok.

My cat, Miss Moxie, has been very needy lately due to her advancing age. I’ve been spending more time taking care of her. I’ve been fixing things around the house too. Well at least trying to. YouTube may show you how to fix something but sometimes my clumsy hands show up as all thumbs.

I mean honestly, there is a list of many hobbies, projects and diversions that I always can be working on. It’s just that one diversion, writing, that has been lagging and fostering this underlying angst and melancholia. I have started writing several essays but grew discouraged and just tossed them. I start writing or fleshing them out and am initially very excited about them.

Somewhere, half way through writing the essay, I mentally drift off out of boredom of the subject. Forcing myself to finish it seems like medieval torture. So I don’t. It’s easier to tap that delete button and then I feel every worse.

Well, as a final statement, this is actually the first essay I have completed in three months so maybe this is an OK start. I don’t think I will delete this one. If only for the fact that you now know I am trying to grow my own lemon trees. Fingers crossed that a mediocre essay serves to push me along until I can climb out of the rabbit hole.

*** I dedicate this post to friends in difficult places as of late. HUGS. And in remembrance of David Hutchinson. May he rest in peace.