It’s about 8:50 PM on a Tuesday night. I’ve had a busy day, not quite typical, but not exhausting. And I’m sitting here attempting to access thoughts. This will be difficult to explain.
I’ve been reading some things online, disturbing things. And, as it often happens, I feel compelled to seek solutions. Not that I think anyone would pay attention to my reasoning, but if I could at least get it put down on paper, or in this case, onto my computer screen, at least I would feel like I have done something.
I know that sounds weak, pointless.
But I’m not trying to save the world. I’m just trying to think about what it might be like, feel like I guess I should say, to see something meaningful escape from my jumbled ramblings and onto the computer screen.
And therein lies the problem: a solution does not come to mind, although I have this sense that my brain, were it more available to me, could at least take a stab at it. But there is a wall between my conscious thinking mind, and the mishmash that might conceal and could reveal something useful.
I’m sitting here right now, intellectual energy draining from me, that impenetrable wall holding fast. It ain’t gonna happen. I would love to say how hard it is to accept this weakness. But it is not that difficult to accept it. Just a few years ago, my mind was so weak, so unpracticed, so dormant inside the darkness of depression and anxiety … that I succumbed to that darkness and fully accepted it as my life.
And now, although I do occasionally have hours and even days of a reasonable level of clarity, and access to a thinking brain that’s still has some capacity, when the fog sweeps in I’m not even sure that I notice it, until a moment like this.
Of course, there is one other troubling possibility: these thoughts I so vainly reach for do not actually exist, but are merely figments of my vanity. Because, like a lot of folks, I need to feel as though I am intelligent, perhaps more intelligent than I really am.
But whether those thoughts are there or not does not really matter, not if I cannot actually bring them to my conscious mind, not if I cannot draw them out where I can see them, so that I can evaluate them, edit them, revel in them, if they turn out to be worthy of being revelled.
And so, as the evening approaches 9:10 PM, only 20 minutes later, I will bring this pitiful angst eruption to a close, go make some herb tea, and settle down for the night.