mere

I've been in a weird mood since about the middle of October.

I am introverted and generally feel quite anxious around people. I like to stay home and cuddle up in front of a movie; I enjoy quiet nights hanging out with a few of my friends. I am pretty strongly averse to any situation in which I must intermingle with mere acquaintances, and I especially hate having to interact with complete strangers in social, small-talky kind of contexts. And yet, solitude, too, disagrees with me. Thus, I depend almost shamefully on my boyfriend and a scant handful of other individuals to satisfy my need for social interaction.

Trillance moved to LA in August. Because I had the anticipatory excitement of seeing my parents for the first time in over a year, I was OK through September. And then, happily, Trillance ended up coming home with me for over a week because he had to recover from his surgery. Despite ridiculous travel schedules and exorbitant costs, we have still managed to see each other every weekend (except one) since he moved away.

Really, we knew this was coming since, oh, May? Wed already dubbed the time from August 2010 August 2011 The Year of Compromises. We steeled ourselves for a stressful combination of separation, stretched budgets, demanding work and school commitments, etc. We moved me in to a smaller place. We vowed to keep our weekends free so that we wouldnt be burdened with distraction during the small amount of time we had to spend together. In my head I came up with reasons to appreciate the distance: Id be able to spread out my sewing (etc.) projects without being in anyones way, I would have plenty of silence during which to study for my courses, I wouldnt distract him from writing his dissertation, wed value our time together even more, wed realize how much we love one another

While those things are actually true, ultimately hes not here, and thats a problem. The cats (one staring at me from across the room, the other curled up asleep on the cat tree) dont really make up for the empty feeling. I am reluctantly realizing that, despite our best efforts, I am emotionally fucked up over this.
Since mid-October, Ive been struggling to maintain my motivation, to keep some semblance of routine in my daily life, to accomplish even menial tasks like watering the plants, putting away the clean laundry, or returning that damn Netflix DVD. Sometimes I think I am strangely out of touch with my own emotion: it took me a while to actually notice this as a persistent sentiment, to recognize it as a problem and even begin to think about the source (though, truly, it should have been obvious).

Actually, I dont think it really hit me until my boss left for a two-week vacation. To any outside observer, this may seem an unusual catalyst. To understate the case, my boss and I have something of an unconventional relationship. Despite our age difference and the supervisor/employee dynamic, he has become one of my very best friends he knows details about me that I have shared with only one other person and, although by nature he is not particularly forthcoming, I believe that he has nonetheless opened up to me significantly as well. Even before Pierre moved to LA, I had come to depend on our daily lunchtime walk together. My social circle is small (I generally like it that way), so with both Trillance and my boss being away, I was left to my own devices. What had been so far passing as a less-enthusiastic-than-usual emotional state became to me an obvious depression, and what I had excused as decompression after the stress of vet school applications became a persistent lack of motivation.

Chris has been back to work for a week now and weve resumed our normal interactions. Ive made some effort to seek out time with other friends, and, of course, Trillance and I have been spending our weekends together. But this feeling persists. I cant seem to pull myself out of it.

I feel guilty, knowing that there are truly important things for me to be doing (working on my composition class, finishing my Guelph application, making doctors appointments, etc.). Despite very real deadlines and pressures, I have zero motivation to work on any of these things. I have this constant feeling that whatever I am working on at the moment is uninteresting; no matter what Im doing, I constantly want to be doing something else. I switch idly from task to task, never really finishing anything. This has manifested itself in about 20 different projects I have planned, purchased supplies for, and even (for some) actually started ultimately perpetuating the problem my scattering myself further and making everything seem overwhelmingly impossible. So, instead of doing anything at all, I often end up most nights zoned out on the couch, chocolate and snacks close at hand, passively absorbing some pointless movie or other. Relative to my usual conduct it sort of feels like Im barely passing at life. Or, maybe, its more that my life is passing me.

Im angry no, furious with myself for being unable to drag myself out of this lull despite knowing full well that Im in it, and what the consequences will be if I dont. Right now, the best I can do is to attempt to record what Im experiencing. At least for now, doing so is a mildly interesting activity I somehow got it into my head that I wanted to write something tonight. Maybe I can share it with Trillance, and even Chris, just to provide them with a clearer and better-organized version of the thoughts theyve already heard me express. Maybe they will even be able to help. If anyone could, I think it would be those two.