How Did She Get Inside My Head?

[desoto_hia873]

I don't really know why I am posting this. I guess eliade's words struck a chord and I want not to lose them or my reaction to them.

From a post by eliade: http://www.livejournal.com/users/eliade/342360.html

And I seriously just don't get it: what do people *do* with their lives? Usually it feels like there is far too little time, but other times, it's just you and the couch and a reluctance to do practical things like laundry. It's days like this that I fear I simply don't know how to live--to exist as a meaningful lifeform.

Can I use this as my epitaph?

Wow, do I know those feelings. I'm seeing someone who lives three hours away, which leaves most weekday evenings and a fair number of weekends to fill on my own. I used to know how to live, what to do - really I did. I had years of practice living in places where I knew very few people and I mostly entertained myself when I wasn't working or at school. I know that I took myself to a movie every Saturday night and walked the dog in a park by a river. I watched alot of TV. Sometimes I cross-stitched. Some weekends seemed endless, but mostly they were OK.

Then, a few years ago, my head exploded. Depression descended and squashed me flat. It's not so bad now, but I can feel it clawing at my heels on the empty weekends. As often as not, I succumb to the pull of the couch and the reluctance to do laundry and think that maybe I should take up substance abuse as a hobby because at least it would make the time go by faster. And then, on Monday morning when I have to get up to go to work, I remember all the things I could have done with those two days - things that would have qualified as living rather than just existing - and I wonder why I couldn't see them on Saturday and Sunday.

I think I will read all the responses to your post, make a list, and stick it to my fridge.

Comments

[desoto-hia873.livejournal.com]

Smutty fanfic certainly helps. :-)

I'm failing miserably on the substance abuse front - I keep forgetting to go to the liquor store. Somehow, the odd glass of Dubonnet just doesn't seem hardcore enough. (Lord, I can't even do THAT right!)