I’m a warrior standing on a battlefield. My armour is freshly cut and fit to perfection, holding to the muscles on my body like they were a part of my skin. Between plates, Kevlar and carbon fibre protect my soft joints from shrapnel, debris and the occasional blade. Physically, I am impenetrable. Mentally, I am frightened. Somewhere around the time the sun began to set earlier and earlier, I began to doubt myself. Despite my armour, despite the army at my back, the man inside the suit is haunted by the shadow of failure.
My seasonal depression has been, for the most part, kept at bay by my medication—something I expected. What I didn’t account for, though, was the pure craving for sunlight. The dark mornings and evenings have robbed me of ambition and allowed my vices to overtake my weakened state of mind. If there was one word that could describe my situation right now, I would say that word is “indulgence.”
It’s late December, and you know what that means: Christmas food. To blame my general level of bloat on Christmas food would be accurate, but I’ve been eating like shit since November. Christmas has just absolved my conscience. I’ve reached the point where I’ve gained that special amount of weight that makes you feel like shit, but no one else can see it. Shirts and pants are just a smidge tighter, but everything else is business as usual, save for that ghost of shame that follows you around all day now.
I feel like I’m at war with the Moon. Every time I wake up to, or fall asleep underneath it, a little piece of energy is taken from me. It’s like I’m the Autobots and the Moon’s one big ole’ Decepticon trying to get it’s hands on my Energon cubes as I sleep—and it’s winning. All I ever want to do is sleep once I’m at home. It’s sapped my will to write, to create, to do anything at all, really. The one trade off is that I’ve seen some damn good movies lately, but it makes me feel like my life just isn’t enough. No matter what I tell myself, I have an incessant need to create, no matter how I’m feeling. It’s just a matter of whether or not I can will myself past the depression and apathy to accomplish anything.
All of this bleeds out into the rest of my life. I’ve had a hell of a time being punctual for work lately and I’m always putting off basic tasks like cleaning and groceries—essentially being the person that I stopped myself from becoming months ago. It stings a little bit, because I know in my heart that I’m worth more than I’m allowing myself to be. I used to be Mr. Prepared, but now I’m Mr. Fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants, always feeling one or two steps behind. I don’t read anymore, I barely write. I nap, and I watch Netflix. This isn’t me—it’s a lazy doppelganger that seeks to disrupt my life. All I seem to do anymore is plan things, neglecting what I’ve already started.
What I’ve accomplished in the sixteen days since my last blog post has been little, but it forms the frame work to something that I think is going to change things for me. I don’t want to talk about it right now, because it’s literally a skeleton, and I’ve already pumped up a collection of short stories that needs to be finished. You see, I should have been rewriting stories over these two weeks, but nope. I’ve been planning new projects. This is my problem—I don’t root myself in the ideas enough to get them finished, just two-thirds of the way there. It’s rooted in my BDP and the impulsivity that comes with it. I’m working on it though.
I’ve leaned into this planning stage, and as cliché as it sounds, I’ve made a New Years Resolution. When I moved out of my ex’s parent’s place and into my mother’s, I created a schedule for myself to avoid sinking—that’s where the thought of daily blogs came from. It worked extremely well and turned things around for me, but now that my desire to create has blossomed outside of this blog, I need to reshuffle the format.
Instead of being either daily or completely intermittent, in 2019, the Fat Dog Podcast will come out on Mondays and Thursdays, with their companion blogs. The format is going to change though—I’m worried that I’m verging on navel gazing, so the days will have themes. Mondays will be standard posts like this, but Thursdays are gonna be about the media I take in through the week, kind of like things to ponder, and recommendations for the weekend—news and Netflix, if you will. I’m also considering finding the occasional guest, because my friends arereally interesting people.
This should help me balance the creative output in my life, as well as create room for all the things I want to do. The root of staying on track creatively, for me, is healing my routine. I need to eat breakfast again. I need to sleep at decent times. I need to grow up and clean on a schedule, not just when it becomes overwhelming. I’m excited to turn all of this around, and with eight full days left in 2018, I have nothing but time to align it all.
I’m going to go plan it out now.
See you tomorrow. (For real! I’ve got Christmas memories!!!)