I have to apologize: life is pretty good.
Which is odd, I know, but I suspect that tragedy makes for much more interesting reading, I certainly feel more passionate when I’m ranting. Although I suppose that doesn’t make the reading any more enjoyable.
So yeah, life is good. I’m getting stuff done:
It doesn’t look like much, but just 24 hours ago, the only way anyone was getting at the mini-muffin tin was by triggering a (semi-)controlled avalanche of assorted cookware – a frightening prospect from that height, let me tell you.
And the BEST PART? After watching me with my drill and hack-saw, the girls pulled out their tools and spent the next 45 minutes “fixing” my step-ladder. Meena assured me that they were “real builders”, and proceeded to deliver both over-time and over-budget. It was great.
And I’m relaxing, too. Me time, instead of being spent staring blankly at a computer screen (or a wall), has been spent playing the guitar. I’ve got some nice proto-callouses happening (this is a good thing), and can now play a somewhat passable “Good Riddance (I Hope You Had The Time Of Your Life)”.
Note: this is only because it turns out it’s REALLY EASY. But man is it cool hearing it coming from your own guitar.
And I know I have mentioned this already, but this whole 2000-calories-a-day thing ROCKS. Holy smokes. I’m, like, never hungry. Actually, that’s not true: I get hungry, and then I EAT. And at the end of the day, I’m NOT HUNGRY ANYMORE. My dinners have become minuscule and not because I’m exercising self control (you can’t exercise a muscle you don’t have), I just don’t need much. And we can bake cookies and banana bread, and I don’t devour it because I just don’t need to. And did I mention the Swiss Chalet fudge cake that’s been in the fridge since FRIDAY? Any time I notice it, I’m just not hungry. Since when did THAT matter???
So things are great, right? Yeah, totally. But here comes the whine: I wanted to get off the Cipralex, but now I don’t want to rock the boat. Things are ok – why mess with it? But can I only ever be happy if I’m medicated? Because I’m never really happy on meds, I just kinda amble along, without any real lows or highs. They also can get in the way of therapy, because the stuff you need to talk about doesn’t seem worth talking about anymore.
And that brings us back to the whole “getting passionate” thing. Sure, I’m trundling along, but I don’t feel capable of getting passionate about anything. And that’s just not like me.
I just can’t decide if I want to be me or not.