I slept on the couch last night. In 22 years of being married, 23 years of living together, 27 years of being together, it was a first.
It was a bad night. It wasn't a great day. It hasn't been a great week. I was reamed for being lazy, irresponsible, inefficient, neglectful. I can't remember the exact words but the general gist is that I do nothing when someone else does everything. And that I am single-handedly raising children who are the same way.
How does one react to such a sweeping condemnation of everything about oneself?
Hysteric crying. Which, I have to say, is hard to do on meds.
I'm finding it's hard to do many things on meds that maybe I should be doing. Like accomplishing things. Finishing what I've started. Crossing thing off my to-do list. Having a to-do list to cross things off of. Yes, I'm mellower, more complacent, more content, but damn, where the hell am I?
What do I do?
Do I let the anxiety back in and plunge to the depths again, knowing that I'll have those super highs too? At this point I've got nothing going on and maybe, just at the edges, it's starting to scare me.
Who am I?
I mean truly–WHO AM I?
WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?
There. I said it. And even not knowing, not having an inkling, an idea, an anything, I'm not freaked out. Normally, I'd be psycho at this point.
There are things about this place that I like: I'm in great shape. I can ride my bike in the city. Drive my car without panic. Not get endlessly lost in the spin in my head. I obsess less. Relax more. I'm not terrified that I'll fall off the edge again.
But I'm not doing anything when I have so much to do. I've got a PTA to run. A movie to collaborate on. Books I could start. And finish. I could update my website. Blog every day. Finish the films I've started. Start new ones I've thought of. Clean out my desk drawer.
Take my kids to interesting places.
Be more involved in the food we eat.
Scrub the living room floor.
Paint the apartment.
Train the dog.
Tackle the stack of paperwork on my desk.
Pack for vacation.
Set up my router and backup system on my computer.
Sell my old set up.
Clean the car.
But, instead, I made a bracelet. It's lovely—2 brown leather cords with purple jade laced in between—but that won't get me far in life. I have to say, it does look nice though.
I take naps.
Am I farther along the path or am I going backwards? I can't tell. I don't know.
Do I stay here, in this slightly numb place or do I jump back into the whirlpool?
Is this just the lazy days of summer or am I starting to rot?
What am I doing with my life?
Who do I want to be?
Damn. No one can answer any of this but me and I just don't want to spin at the moment.