drowning

Lately it seems I've been sinking gradually into darkness.  I can't shake the feeling of exhaustion, of giving up, of giving in, of not giving a damn. I have a headache every day by about 2:00, and never any money, and all I want is to curl up small and read books, or worse, watch TV.

I'm getting tired of bailing. I'm tempted to just let the boat fill up with water and go down. Down down down into the dark, lovely quiet deep.

Sigh.

But I can't, of course.  I won't.  I'll keep bailing and paddling and trying to believe there's the hope of land just beyond the horizon. But it's hard to live life fully in the moment when you're constantly struggling just to keep your snout above the waterline.

Saturday I told myself I was going to make a day of quiet and stillness:  no worrying forward or obsessing backward, no doubt or self-recrimination, no fear.  I just focused on being here now and letting everything else go. I had middling success, but I admit that the shadows crowded around just out of my peripheral vision.  I'm all too aware they are there. They're the old familiar demons:  Money is the ringleader, of course, accompanied by its neurotic sibling Worry.  Doubt stands with a long face and slowly shakes its head.  Despair buries her face in her hands. Frustration stands and grinds its teeth:  they're ground away incessantly, but never get any shorter.  Yeah, the whole gang was there.

I fear that I am failing, and I can't throw it off, I can't get my head up high enough to see the light or breathe. I don't know what else to do, frankly. And just staying the course seems to just keep me in the same place.

Tonight I will read books, sleep, remain still.  Tomorrow might be better.