I’m feeling low and flat and weary and grumpy and I’m having trouble shaking it off.
It’s February. The weather’s miserable. There are yucky anniversaries of things. Spring is months away. There’s a lot of crap been going on surrounding Maggie’s parents. There’s more crap been going on with my stepdaughter. These are things I can’t write about in a public place.
It all seems a far cry from this entry: Life is Good
I’ve been spending far too much time blogging without even writing on my own blog. I’ve spent countless hours reading other blogs, leaving comments, going back to see if my comments have been commented on. Procrastinating, in other words.
What have I achieved? Bugger all. I’m even struggling to keep up the enthusiasm for the game over at the Fishwhacker Swindle where I’m being put on trial, accused of being another blogger. Just find me guilty then I don’t have to play anymore. That really isn’t fair, because Foot Eater has clearly put a lot of time and thought into it and I’m just being an ungrateful swine.
It’s been nearly 2 weeks since I actually wrote anything outwith the blog. Hah! Some bloody writer I’m turning out to be.
And the really annoying thing is that I could suddenly just snap out of it. The right thing said, seen or done and the mood could lift, just like that. But what is the right thing to be said, seen or done?
There are 2 fears related to this mood of indulgent self-pity. One is that my mood won’t lift and I’ll be stuck feeling like this forever; the other is that even if it does lift, who am I trying to kid that I could write anything anyone would want to read anyway.
The longer this goes on, the harder it is to try and dismiss either of these fears.
Intellectually I know that moods don’t last forever, that they do change. And my head can tell me that I have a modicum of talent, which could develop if I keep at the writing. But the problem is I don’t feel it at the moment.