It’s raining out.
Pissing rain, to be more precise.
Overcast. Cold. Rainy.
My mood and my energy level reflect the scene outside my window.
Things start with promise. I wake early, feed the dogs and cats, fix my coffee/cocoa/maple syrup blend (try it), and hop on my computer to finish up my book proposal.
The words come out for a while.
Then I start to feel stoned. Like I cannot think straight. Or wake up.
I do jumping jacks. I drink a "green drink" for a boost of energy. I slap myself in the face a few times. Nothing makes a difference. I just ain’t got no juice today, it seems.
The more I fight against it, the more I push against this wall that won’t budge, the further I descend. So I’m going to stop pushing. The very idea brings up some weird feelings. Like not pushing is dangerous in a way. Things will fall apart if I’m not DOING something. I’ll never get where I’m supposed to be if I don’t finish this proposal… and on. And on.
I try to remember the last time I felt this way.
This certainly wasn’t the last time, but it’s what I remember right now.
I live in Seattle. It’s November, just before Thanksgiving. The day is overcast. Rainy. Cold. Gray. I am driving home from the grocery store. Alice in Chains, the Seattle-based grunge band, plays on the radio. The song has their signature melodic darkness and perfectly captures the feeling of the day. A fan of their music for years, on this day, driving through the ocean of gray, I know where the band got the inspiration for their sound.
I want out of this place. I want out of the clouds and pissing rain. I want warmth instead of the damp that fills my bones. I want sunshine. I want beauty. I do not want to feel so lonely/separate/dark.
But the clouds were not going anywhere that day.
And neither was I.
I don’t remember exactly what happened after that.
But I do know that eventually, the sun came out.
(If you’re curious about Alice In Chains, you can check them here. Yes, they have a dark tinge to them, somewhere inside us, don’t we all?)