It’s been several long weeks since I gave up. Maybe more. Time has been passing at the same rate it has been in a while. I keep thinking of things to do, feeling there’s no point and not doing them. All I do is exist, which is nothing new. I don’t feel better. I don’t feel worse. I just am.
I realized something though. My writing is sub par and what I require to actually improve it is conscious effort some organization and guided focus. I can actual do it I think, but I feel ambivalent about it. Without hope, what’s the point of doing anything trying anything. I don’t see any. All I do now info because I have to or to give myself the stimulation required to tolerate existing. To quote adhd tik-tokers I follow the dopamine.
Having no hope of anything but eventual failure kind of dampens the ability to enjoy trying new things. I get tired of being crushed by failure. s much so that I can’t even enjoy the thought of until progress any more for most things. There aren’t many things that give you instant gratification for your effort though. Even fewer that are cheap, legal, or low risk.
I think about working on sewing again but I’m not eager to try using a sewing machine and I’m no longer satisfied with my hand stitching skills or can improve at a good enough rate for it to be stimulating for me. I don’t need clothes or anything and I’m not inspired to do anything. The thought of creating something pointless and of middling quality is not appealing.
I occasionally think of practicing my flute again. It’s a slow process though and I double my ability to keep the energy to do it regularly. Plus I’m so out of shape sitting in the proper position holding it tires my arms out. Too much effort for too little reward. Pointless. Worthless. Useless.
I could work on gardening. I have seeds and a place to put them. But deer and rabbits will devour the seedlings and I don’t have the concentration to cultivate seeds into plants large enough they won’t be destroyed. I occassionally think what if I crocheted a net big enough to keep them off them and mounted it on sticks over the containers. Or other such solutions. Like spraying them with soapy water or oil from hot peppers or something but I’m not sure if I could handle getting my hopes up again and doing the work and getting them dashed again.
I think sometimes that maybe cooking something would be good for me. I like it. I’m good at it. Other people enjoy it. There’s a point to it. But cooking requires cleaning up. It requires going downstairs and interacting with people if only because my roommates refuse to ignore my existence. It takes energy. And I don’t have it. It flees me at the first thought of having to clean anything and a weight descends on my entire being like the universe is using me as a lounge with no plans of getting off me any time soon.
I know I should exercise, but going for a walk with no purpose except for walking itself is the most pointless nonsensical thing I can imagine. Like if someone suggested painting your nose blue for the art practice. The thought of doing it for any long term improvement is right out. I always fail. Maybe I’ll feel better when I actually do it, but the truth is just like with cooking, as soon as I start to consider it, the universe decides to relax on top of me for a while.
Is there a reason to do anything if there’s no hope of anything but eventual disappointment and failure. If there’s never going to be an improvement that lasts,why do things that people assure you will improve your life. It seems like without hope there isn’t one. People have said that I’ll enjoy it while doing it, but awareness of inevitable failure kind of saps the enjoyment out of everything.
It’s an interesting philosophical question. Much like what’s the point of life if it eventually ends in death. Though I already know the point of life is living. Besides death isn’t failure or a moral judgement of your worth. Nobody is going to not die. But people do succeed at doing things and do improve. I’m just not one of them. Not in anything that matters. Surprisingly little seems to matter.
It also seems to mirror the question of without god religion or eternal reward, what’s the point of morality. I know the answer to that one. Morality, As in kindness, altruism, compassion and unselfishness, is surprisingly practical in regards to everyday life and interacting with other people. Selfish irredeemable assholes are always going to be that way no matter how you act. They’re always going to fuck you over no matter what you do. But most people arent selfish irredeemable assholes and being treated with kindness and decency and fairness will always bring out the best in them once they know it’s genuine and not just a way to get them off guard. Morality gets the best out of the most people you interact with.
So given these big philosophical questions and the answers I have for them. I know that there exist reasons to do things that are good for you beyond the thought of eventual reward or the requirement of continued success. I’m alive. I have no desire not to be alive. But I am without hope for making myself anything more than I am right now, which isn’t much. If that’s possible, then there must be more than hope for the future as a reason to do things that are good for me long term.
Its actually kind of funny since that means I’m searching for immediate gratification from things that are meant to have more long term benefits. It’s kind of a hedonistic philosophy. Im not the least tempted to do anything reckless like theft, drugs, sex, adrenaline seeking. I have no hope of my life getting better or myself becoming better, but I am more than aware that both things can easily become much, much worse. I have absolutely no desire to risk that. That’s part of the reason I don’t want to do things I know won’t succeed. I can’t take more failure and defeat. I know I can’t handle it.
Hedonism as to attempt to achieve homeostasis is such an interesting concept. I’ll have to think about it some more. Maybe look up the philosophy. Maybe I should look into nihilism too. See what that’s about. I’m sure I can’t be the first to have thoughts and feelings like this. I’m certainly I’m not the most intelligent insightful person to have them. Maybe I can find other people’s answers and that’ll help me figure out my own
I have remembered something for gardening again, regardless of hope or the need for success. I like playing in the dirt. I always have. I like feeling it on my hands, seeing what’s in it, even organizing it in weird ways. Smelling it, arranging it. It’s weird but it’s a really human kind of fun and it doesn’t require anything but the moment and the action. Instant gratification from an activity designed for long term benefits. Maybe I’ll see about filling my garden boxes tonight. Maybe I’ll just think about it some more reminding myself of the immediate pleasure of playing in the dirt.
My Gordian Knot 