January 16, 2012

Disconnected, an “I Wonder If I’m Depressed” Ramble That’s Probably Pointless.

I really need to get some shit done.

Classes start tomorrow, and I need to do some heavy duty teaching then. I still have a bunch of prep to do. I mean, I don’t doubt I’ll get it done. I’m not stupid or whatever, and while I hope I get more done than the barest of minimums, the barest of minimums, being prepared just for this week of classes, is not going to be hard to achieve, given what I’ve already gotten done. I’m not really worried about it.

But goodness, I feel lost.

I feel disconnected from what I’m doing and why I’m doing it, in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. I feel like pointlessness to my actions, where what I’m doing doesn’t matter. Is it because I’m out of plans and am just in a holding pattern waiting for Brer to get here? Is it the pills? Is it because I’ve been on forced “vacation” for so long and haven’t been doing much I would consider constructive? Disconnected from friends? Swamp gas?

I’m not sure.

It’s kind of extra demoralizing though. I dunno. I assumed most of this shit would stop when I transitioned and, for the most part, it totally, totally has. But then I have days like this, where I feel so lost, even when I’m working on projects, alone, even when I’m talking to my boyfriends and friends, and floaty, even though I’m interacting with my family in physical space for dinner, and I just worry that I’m just kind of wired naturally to feel like shit. I fixed a lot of it by giving my brain the stuff it needs, but not all of it, you know?

I really don’t think that’s accurate. Everybody has off days, sadness, and things like that in their lives. This shit happens. It shouldn’t be happening 24/7, like it was before, but it does happen. That’s life. I think all this worry is really more like… I worry that I won’t snap out of it. Now that I’ve been more happy, and more stable, I do not, in the least, want to go back to how I felt before. Feeling that way, even for an afternoon, makes me scared that tomorrow, things won’t be better. I won’t cheer up, and I’ll go back to how things were. I’ll feel like I’m unable to get out of bed, and continue living. I freak out about that happening again. And that freaking out would, in the past, cause me to get even worse, and continue to spiral downward, again and again, into that black abyss or something less cliche.

I guess that is the difference, now that I say it. I’m not getting worse. Feeling like this is not making me sing songs about killing myself, or about how much of a disappointment I am, as I go about my daily stuff. I’m not falling down where I can’t get up. I don’t feel great, but I’m not doomed. That helps.

I’ll get some sleep. That’s probably a bit part of it. We’ll see how things go, and we’ll see how much I am overthinking what will probably just end up being my normal apprehension to change, namely changing to this new teaching schedule, which I’ve felt basically every year I’ve been in school before school started. We’ll see.

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