Hope

I awoke today looking for some point, some reason. Over a period of years, my idea of a raison d'etre has slipped from having something to look forward to every day, to having some sort of goal towards which I can trudge for a sense of satisfaction, to where I am occasionally now: I just hope for one slippery thing to hang onto to get me from day to day. Sitting at home has never been the languid paradise I pictured, especially when money is tight, and one wants to contribute more.

I didn't get here overnight, and I won't get out of this quagmire overnight either. I know good things are just on the horizon, I just have to get that idea into my bones again, get on that roll.

This morning, the needle of my compass gave me the finger, and told me to go figure it out myself. I puttered around the house, made some minor phone calls, stumbled through some housework like The Mummy on methadone, trying to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Life = hope, and one of the worst things to do is to become still and allow the current to take me down. I'd rather dog-paddle than sink.

I just got done lifting some weights, trying to get some endorphins pumping - even my endocrine system has abandoned me! Oh well - I suppose one more workout on the calendar will pay off in a medium-term way, even if I've bottomed out for instant gratification.

The one sin I'd really like to avoid is being bummed in front of my wife. She hates my stupors more than I do, and they weigh her down. Me, I've learned to deal with my own stagnancy, like a pig wallowing in shit, but I can't bear to take her into the pit with me. This alone is reason enough to escape the shadows.

This post didn't want to be so sullen - I really meant to jot down something about shaking off the doldrums and finding meaning, regardless of all I can find to moan about. Sometimes the words line up how you want 'em to, and sometimes, they cut their own path. Meh - whattayagonnado?