I think one of the things I miss about myself the most was my desire to try new things all the time. I don’t mean wild experiences, I mean life hacks. Little things to make your life better and easier. I used to read them all the time. Articles, lists, videos, even self help books. I loved them because they were brilliant and creative and most of all cheap. (At least most of them)
I loved getting more bang for my buck. I loved making things more efficient, even if my executive dysfunction be wrecked it all fairly quickly. It was like building towers out of blocks. Yes they always came crashing down afterwards but that wasn’t the point. The point was to keep playing. To keep building. Because it was fun and got bigger and better each time.
I don’t feel that any more. I don’t feel excited about much of anything any more. How did this happen? I’m on medication. I’m not getting into trouble. I’m in a good stable situation and yet I’m so dead inside I can’t even enjoy something I loved forever. How the hell did stable but miserable and empty and weighed down by existence become my version of okay. When did this become what I considered my baseline? When did I start to think that not actively suicidal was good enough?
I want to enjoy life hacks. I want to create things for fun without meaning or purpose. I want to budget my time and my money and organize my socks into over the door shoe holders like I do my underwear. I want to delight in things again. I want my interests back. I want be good instead of just okay. I want to wake up and get out of bed because I have things I want to do, not just because I’m hungry or need to go to the bathroom or take meds. I want to stay out of bed.
I want to be me again.
My Gordian Knot 