There’s something about the seventeenth time you’ve made the same mistake that is humbling and tends to bring about a feeling of despair. How could I do THAT again? Of all the things, that’s the one thing I know NOT to do, the one thing I know how to avoid…and yet I do it. You know exactly where it leads yet you often feel powerless to stop it. Like a deer staring into the headlights of an approaching car you have plenty of time to get out-of-the-way if only you didn’t feel ensnared by gawking at your own error (not to mention the feeling “why bother stopping it in the first place”).
I’ve been stuck in this funk for a while now. I’ve lost a lot of what I gained over the last two years. My edge has dulled and my inspiration vanished. The world seems a bit less bright and novelty has long since given way to monotony.
I know the only real solution is to get back out in the yard exercising: flipping tires, tossing bowling balls, sprinting, etc. But I feel so uninspired. You’ll only end up getting sick again, the flu, a cold, something will derail you. So says the obnoxious guy on my shoulder. I would just flick him off if I wasn’t so damn lazy. Plus he makes me feel good, the foods and activities he chooses are some of my favorites.
Tomorrow I won’t be doing a lot other than trying to eat right, getting in some moderate exercise, and seeking out the inspiration I lost. If I can find the latter the other things will come soon enough. If I can’t I am doomed to be stuck in this spiral. And even I don’t like the sound of that.