The Compostual Existentialist

Wordpress flavour with added crunchy bits

Drain

Leave a comment

Lately I’ve been struggling. I am aware of so much that is happening but I feel absolutely powerless to stop it. I’m worried I’m slipping back into depression.

I’ve been eating shite again. I have lost all momentum and spirit. I feel lethargic, apathetic and worn out. I’ve lost interest in things, my writing, my games, my books, TV, films etc. I’m getting grumpy again but cannot pinpoint what it is that is making me feel grumpy. I feel close to tears and using my every last bit of will power to stop myself from blubbing. Why? I haven’t a clue. I’m sure other people around and close to me have noticed.

So I ask myself what it is that is making me feel this way. Is it because of my new circumstances? Sure Brierley is duller than a lead pipe but I have a fantastic house and Clair is happy in it which makes me happy. I miss Liverpool of course but I don’t yearn for the place…like I’m not clawing at the door screaming “Take me back!!!”. I miss Liverpool like I miss Wales or Sheffield. So its not homesickness.

Is it my job? My job sucks. Every job I’ve had apart from the one at the Solicitors sucked. But I probably would have got bored of that too eventually. Part of me wants a challenge but the other part says “Wo there tiger! Challenges are hard work. Hard work is tiring, being tired sucks.” I am fully aware I am a lazy bastard looking for an easy ticket but I’m also aware that ticket will run out soon and the conductor of the Lazy bus will kick me off.

Is it because on Sunday I’ll be 33? No cos I like being old in some respects (and before you pensioners that read this say “33 isnt old buddy” yeah I say that to 23 year olds. Age is relative kiddo) and besides…33 aint old…

I just feel like I’ve taken a huge “Meh” pill. I feel insular, uninterested and like saying “Fuck this” and going away somewhere on my own and face the consequences on my return. But I know that isnt a solution. Besides I dont have the balls to do something like that. I wish I’d done it in 1996 though and in 1993….Clair says I don’t take risks and part of me wants to prove her wrong by fucking off.

So I try to counteract the mehness by doing things only whenever I plan to do summat things conspire against me…the weather…other people changing their minds, their plans or getting in the way, not having the right things to do what I want to do and even not having the “OK” to do what I want to do from the wife.

Then there’s the wife. Clair’s great but she is having her own down time at the moment. Clair’s issue is her health and weight, an intricate chicken and egg thing that she battles with eternally like some horrid game of Snakes and Ladders. She loses weight her health improves. One hiccup and its back down the snake to the beginning.. The hiccup can be stress related, illness related or even just one nights lack of sleep. I can only be so supportive. Of course me being on a pisser doesn’t help either, our symbiotic relationship sometimes makes it feel like we can be equally as good for each other as we can be bad for each other. Clair is concerned that I am slipping back to the way I was. I tried so bloody hard to stay the way we agreed we would but one thing after another has slipped back to the mire of mehness. It isnt good, it is going to cause a rift and then I’ll be worse than I am now. I know I should discuss how I feel with her but it usually ends up deteriorating into arguments or a lecture or something. I get defensive and then we argue more.

People (and the wife for that matter) say to me “Well what do you want to do?” My answer? “Fuck all. I want to do my own thing when I want how I want.” the problem being I can and do that anyway during the moments I do have time to do things for myself. But also I dont want to necessarily do them things on my own. I’d prefer to do stuff with other people occasionally. Or I’ll get bored of doing fuck all and get miserable and depressed. Like now…what I want to do now is sit in the pub and drink beer, talk shite and smoke. Thing is I’d get to the pub, have my first pint and then not want another. Realise I don’t know anyone or not want to talk to them anyway. Feel sick because I’ve smoked and then want to go home. Then I’ll sit round feeling lousy and have wasted hours instead of doing stuff I’d have been better off doing but for some reason or another couldnt be arsed or motivated to do in the first place.

I’m starting to get scared. In the past when I’ve felt like this things tend to go wrong and circumstances change for the worse. Guess I’m going to have to face the fact that I’m a lazy bastard that’s not going to go anywhere except alone to an early grave. I’m starting to feel too tired to carry on fighting against the stream and for once hugs won’t help.

Advertisements

Author: stegzy

Once, long ago, I wrote frequently on Livejournal. I then moved to Blogspot, where I discovered that blogging requires an audience. So I moved back to LJ. Then over to Dreamwidth, back to LJ, up the road of self hosting with Muckybadger before giving up entirely and moving over to Wordpress. It was at that moment I decided I would spread my compostual nonsense simultaneously across the blogosphere like some rancid margarine. And so here I am. I am a badger. But then I'm not really a badger. I am a human. With badger like tendencies. I am a writer, a film producer and a social commentator. I am available for Breakfast TV shows, documentaries and chats in the pub with journalists.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s