Day 311: Wetland

Hullo. I’m in bed. Thank goodness for Chromebooks. I’ve come back from work and crashed. I ate soup, watched the new Alan Partridge, watched a classic Partridge, and now I’m in bed. I’m not getting back up again. I’ll have to send my missive from here.

I’m struggling today. Managed fine at work, but got as far as the bus stop after my shift and the wind fell from my sails. Been feeling bleak this evening.

I’m sorry. All I seem to do is write about how tired I am and how bleak I feel. It’s not nice to read. Why would anyone want to read this? But it’s all I’ve got.

It’s so hard to avoid negativity and depression when I’m this tired. I can’t remember any of the techniques. Can’t remember therapy lessons. Can’t remember how not to be depressed. It’s always an effort to drag my feet out of the quagmire, to pull myself free. I guess the faster you go the less time you’re touching the mud, then you’re running, then flying, and you’re free. But you get tired and you start to slow, and then your feet start sticking in the swamp again, and then it’s all your effort to pull a leg free, and while doing that the other leg starts to sink, and then pretty soon you’re battling far harder than when you were soaring above, all just to prevent yourself from being swallowed completely by that thick black slime.

That’s an apt analogy. I’m too tired to write it properly but I can feel it in my head and I can feel that it has truth. When you’re doing well much of your buoyancy is your own forward momentum, and you can channel that energy into swooping and soaring and you can glide on the natural drafts that blow your way. But when you are down in the quagmire there is nothing to ride; everything is an obstacle. Fighting to stay afloat drains you, and then because you are drained you sink lower, and you have to fight even harder to keep from drowning, which drains you further, which means you have to fight harder…

It’s a vicious cycle, a negative spiral, and you can be knocked into it by something trivial, meaningless, sometimes simply by getting tired. You’re doing well, you’re gliding, and you have some long days, and you dip lower, and suddenly your heels are splashing in grime and you’re squelching with each step and then it is too late.

……

So I guess it’s important to find spots to rest outside of the quagmire. To find a safe perch away from the wind and hunker down and give yourself an opportunity to recover.

So that’s what I’ll do tonight. No more writing. Not going to wrestle this post to make it flow, get it into shape. Going to drink some water, watch the new Fleabag, be kind to myself, get an early night.

The world isn’t all wetland. There are sanctuaries. There is space within the present moment to rest.