I’ve realised recently that I’ve been distracted. These distractions have worn me down to a point of almost total lethargy and painful effort to do almost anything constructive. I’ve succumbed to the same self-defeating tendencies that I’ve always encouraged others to simply snap out of. Worse still is that I realise that this is what I’m doing, yet I lack any significant motivation to change it.
I’ve put on weight to the point where my clothes are uncomfortable and my body aches from the awkwardness of being out of proportion. Compensating for the shift in my centre of gravity is causing my back to ache leaving me feeling as if I should be preparing for old age. Death has been a constant thread in my thought patterns, but not morbidly so. Just the realisation of how much will continue regardless of my absence, and who would be left abandoned in some way or another as a result of my untimely departure.
None of this is outwardly visible of course, with the exception of the obvious weight gain. The headaches are more frequent, the joints almost groan involuntarily and my fingers ache. They actually ache as if they’re under constant strain or as if I’ve jammed them into a door. All of these aches and pain remind me that I’m suppressing my true nature because I’ve grown too weary and jaded to venture into another battlefield not knowing how I’ll fare.
I’ve been seriously contemplating writing that novel, or at least starting with a short story titled The Story of Me. The more I think of it the more I realise how much there is to write about. There isn’t time to finish these thoughts. There’s rarely time to finish anything these days. But somehow I’ve managed to hold it all together and be productive at the same time. But very little of it has been a true joy. Although I refuse to make it feel like a total burden either.
I recently planned a weekend away to one of the most beautiful parts of the country, but cancelled at the last minute because I didn’t have the energy to make the 5 hour drive to get there. This from a man that used to drive 16 hours straight with only fuel stops and accompanied by nothing but his own thoughts and a simple appreciation for the beautiful landscapes on the journey.
I’ve grown old without realising it. I feel like I’m 90, battle fatigued, and waiting for peace.