9:21 AM. I woke up about 10 minutes ago. Yeah, I slept till late today. After a lot of days I slept at 2ish and like most of these days, I slept intermittently. I’ve washed my face, downed a liter of water, and sitting on my chair, and yet I am drowsy and droopy and sloppy and all that. I am making typos like I was a child still learning how to type.
So, its 10. All I’ve written is one para above with some 50 words. Lol!
I think something’s off with me. There’s no joy in life. You know, excitement. Nothing seems to affect me anymore. To a point that I am not moved by anything. I have close friends losing their parents and I am untouched by their pain. I have classmates donating a million doses of vaccine and while I marvel at their work, I am not proud that I know such people. I am working on my first angel deal (something that I’ve wanted to do all my life) and yet there’s no excitement. Guess this is what they call ennui. Or even languishing. Am oscillating between so many emotions, all over the place, all the time that this cocktail of emotions and hormones in my head is not helping. At times, I see Instagram feeds and I get inspired that I want to get fit and dream of running 10o-mile marathons. At times I see awesome work done by others and I want to do more than what I am doing right now. At times, I get sad about the meaninglessness and randomness of this entire thing called life. At times I wish I was one of those lucky ones to have won the Ovarian lottery and born as a kid with a silver spoon up my ass. At times I want to work so hard and game the systems and make money like a mad man. At times I want to give away whatever little I have and become a monk. Actually no. This is not right. I would never be a monk. I would never sell my Ferrari. I am a capitalist at heart. But may be a conscious capitalist.
I think this capitalist in me is not getting a release and that’s causing the feeling of sadness, grief, and listlessness. I don’t know how to help.
The only good thing happening these days is the docedge sessions. When I am in those sessions, I see WIP work from other participants and I get the hope that at some time in life even I can tell stories that need telling. I think when I am learning new things, I am happier. I think the lust for being a perpetual WIP is what gives me hope and gives me a reason to wake up in the morning. I think I need to find more opportunities like that. You know, meet other creative people, get inspired, and shoot for the
Ok, more words are not flowing. Guess I will break. Let’s see if during the day I feel any better. Hope others are not in this zone.
- Morning Pages / Meditations – 150 (this is 151st post)
- #aPicADay – 0
- 10K steps a day – 0
- OMAD – 0
- #noCoffee – 0
- #noCoke – 62
- 10 mins of meditation – 0
- #book2 – 0
- Killer Boogie – 0
- Original Work (limited time only) – 0
- Surya Namaskar – 0
P.S.: While reviewing this before I hit publish, I realise that a big cause of my grief is piled onto me by others. When I say others, I mean people I know and care for. Not strangers. You know, friends and colleagues and others. Thing is when people I care for, when they talk to me rudely or curtly, I lose it. Each time this happens, I get affected for like a week and takes me forever to recover. Need to become a lot more harsher with self and stop this loop of expectations. May be that’s a way out?
Not sure. Way too much on my head. Later.