I think I’m on the downslope of the recent manic episode, and I’m hoping it has a soft landing this time. I’m getting fatigued and sleepy again, all day every day. I don’t have much interest in doing anything but sleeping and eating, which isn’t good. The weather and the virus are conspiring to keep me at home. My back has been really bothering me this week, so I don’t want to do anything physical. I could do something useful at home, but what’s the point? Ugh.
I need something to keep my interest in the evenings. My wife comes home from work worn out, and after dinner she just wants to zone out on her phone or by watching stuff on the web. I know I’m not that interesting, but even she finds me boring now. If she would talk to me, maybe I wouldn’t sit in my chair and drift off to sleep every night.
My mother sent me a late birthday present: a box full of old maps. I was still a little manic at the moment, and I thought “cool, all these maps I can look at!” But just two days later, I’m thinking I got a box of junk she wanted to get rid of, that I have no real interest in, and I will just throw them away someday. Maybe that’s a metaphor for my life: fascinating at first, just a curiosity a short time later, and eventually useless and disposable.
I don’t know. Life seemed much more interesting and exciting this past week, and now it seems like such a chore. I feel like the only purpose for the day is making it to bedtime so I can sleep. Then I get up the next day and can’t wait for the day to be over so I can sleep again. Sitting around all day on the weekend seems so useless. At least working gives me a purpose (and income and insurance), even if I don’t enjoy it. I feel overwhelmed at work, at home, in the real world, and in my brain.
Maybe I need to be manic more often. You don’t overthink things, you don’t sleep a lot, and you just go-go-go. That’s how I got through college, after all.