It has been… weird. I know, very profound. But I am at a loss as to what words best describe these past few weeks.
So, this is what I could come up with: I have felt weird.
Yep. I have a master’s degree and everything.
But I have felt a little off. I don’t know if it is the changes in my medications, or maybe the baristas at Starbucks have switched me to decaf and aren’t telling me, but it is like I am here, and yet not here. Like I am focusing on something, and not focusing on anything.
Which makes about as much sense as a screen door on a submarine, so I guess another way to describe it is like a feeling akin to drifting…. drifting along…. through life. Not that I don’t care about things, but that things just seem to be passing by.
I have noticed, for example, that I have not been doing much in my spare time beyond reading and volunteering at Kitten Rescue… and sleeping. A lot, a lot, a lot of sleeping. Even with a change in my Adderall dosage, I’ll come home from work some nights and feel so wiped out, I’ll drop my stuff, lay down on my couch, and I’m out. Next thing I know, J is shaking me awake because he has gotten home. And it’s only 7:30pm.
Other nights I can muster the energy to read for a while, but every night, all I want to do is read. I don’t have any desire to work on my glass paintings, or my crocheting. In fact, it has been so long since I picked up a crochet hook, I’ll probably need to watch the “I Can Crochet!” tutorial videos all over again.
And poor Artemis. My bike is caked in so much rust and grime from misuse that Artemis herself has probably disintegrated, and all that is left is a perfect shell made from rust and grime.
But try as I might, I cannot motivate myself to return to any of these projects. Although I do feel a slight pull towards crocheting… now that I’m thinking about it more while composing this blog post than I have in the past 93 years. And I bet part of what is pulling me is the mindlessness of it – not much brain power required there. Just an ability to get into a repetitive rhythm.
Whereas some of these other projects need a little more focus and concentration. And physical energy.
Which is where the weirdness comes in. Yes, I come home in the evenings exhausted and walking on my eye lids, but that is only some of the time. When I have remembered to take my second Adderall pill at mid-day, then I come home in the evening feeling okay. Not exactly ready for a marathon, but not lurching along like Frankenstein’s monster either. I feel conscious. So my drifting isn’t always a question of energy.
Is it a problem with motivation?
Is it a problem with burn out? I can remember a day not that long ago where I couldn’t fathom not getting on Artemis. Now I have to kick myself in the butt a thousand times over, and even then, I can still talk myself out of a bike ride. And I don’t know why. I don’t know why something I loved so wholeheartedly just a few months ago now seems like such a trial.
Especially when I don’t have any trouble motivating myself to go to Kitten Rescue, or to take Charlie for a long walk. In fact, I crave the time I spend snuggling with Charlie… and the cats. I find myself thinking more and more about them – waiting to get home and see Charlie, waiting to get to Kitten Rescue and see Darcy, Genesis, Brooster, Linus…
It’s like for every day that passes, the animals in my life are filling more and more of my mind. Maybe that is why I feel like everything is just passing by… because I have been more focused on the four-legged friends than on anything else.
I don’t know that this is such a bad thing. It’s always great to find something you are passionate about, right? And sometimes you try things out, and you can even enjoy them for a while, but they really aren’t as pleasurable as other activities, so you let them go… which makes a weird kind of sense with me. Reading and animal time. My two greatest pleasures (and for the record: J is exempt from all this! He’ll always be the king in my life – the rest of this is second to him), and probably why my absolute favorite time of day are those early mornings with me, coffee, a book, and Charlie.
Which I will admit, I love more than I did any ride on Artemis.
But I love Artemis too. And glass painting. And crocheting. And I don’t like feeling like I’m giving up.
Is that what it is? Giving up?
Can your passions change?