I was going to begin by writing that this has been one of the more difficult winters I’ve been through in some time. But I don’t even know if this is true. What I do know is the winters feel like each one is successively harder than the last.
My thoughts are conflicted. I don’t know if what I feel this time of year has anything to do with the winter weather, or the gray skies, or the dead landscape…all the visual hell of winter that coincides with the discomfort of the temperature…or if it has more to do with work related exhaustion? Every year, for the past ten years, I’ve begun a new year of work, preceded by an incessantly busy year before, having mentally exhausted myself numerous times throughout the preceding year, only to ride right into another deep and demanding workload. I dig deep, and scrape for motivation, and reach a point where it becomes more and more difficult to find any.
The weather doesn’t help.
Erin says I’m depressed. Maybe she’s right? I don’t know. I know I feel drained. I feel exhausted. I feel discouraged. I talked to a couple friends about this. In so many words they said, “Depressed? How about burnt out?” It has been a difficult set of months. I know this because some of the things that steady me have fallen by the way-side.
For instance, after four years of solid effort and dedication to working out…I hit a wall. I’ve struggled since the end of November to get my workouts in. It began as an every other week situation. Which morphed into two solid weeks without working out. Then only two days a week. Then a day here and there. Outside of legitimate sickness, I hadn’t missed my workouts in four fucking years. Now I struggle to even feel motivated to do them. I get home from work, completely drained and disgusted, and all I want to do is sit and let my brain melt into itself. I tell myself this will pass, and I envision the future day when I’m back in the swing of things, but it hasn’t taken hold. I’ve changed my workout routines in an attempt to keep things interesting, but it remains a struggle. I made my workout tonight, so maybe it’s the beginning of a new beginning?
Writing - I had been making steady and consistent effort at writing, and then I hit a wall recently. The words felt exhausted, empty, and silly sounding, a waste of effort. I told myself, it was okay, so long as I wrote on the weekends, and yet by the end of the week I feel so drained it feels difficult to even think about how to phrase a sentence. There is so little time between all the things I have to do, and the things I want to do, that having a block of time to write feels like a luxury I cannot take. I redesigned the blog and felt happy with it, figuring it would lend itself to another burst of creativity, but it remains a struggle. Creativity of any sort remains difficult. Like the workout, I’ve made these words tonight, so maybe this is the beginning of a new beginning as well?
Maybe it’s age? Creative pursuits at this age - what are they for? Half-assed hobbies you’re lucky to excel at due to only having a handful of hours on the weekend to pursue them? Maybe it’s the dreams that never came true, and the constant reminder those ships have sailed…maybe this makes it hard?
What a fucking cliche.