I want to make pottery, oh how I want to make pottery.
This enforced studio-vacation prescription was working fine until last night.
Earlier in the day I stopped at the Tailgate market, even though I wasn't working. It was great to see my friends. And as of then I had actually noticed improvement in the coughing. Drat it all, I said. If staying away from the studio meant my health, I would have to consider changing my lifestyle.
But then while watching the Olympics, the cough-from-hell started again. I loved seeing those young athletes and seeing their camaraderie. Then the gurgling would happen in my chest. Enough details.
I slept sporadically, which is the side effect of this nocturnal cough...and I guess I had 5-6 hours out of the 9 in bed.
If you're tired of hearing about my health, I don't blame you. I would like to have a semi-normal life again.
I don't have anything to get up for in the morning. This is not my idea of retirement. I see friends, I read so much Facebook I feel like I'm on that site most of the day. I still avoid all the political brouhaha. At least the Olympics let me see something on the news, which is usually muted through the violence and terrorism of our broadcasts.
And with little or no motivation, I ignore my raised-bed garden up the street. So close, but I feel it's a failure just waiting for me to come see it. This is not how a garden should be approached, now is it?
So I remember when I've felt depressed before...what has worked was to make a gratitude list. I need to do that soon. Just have to push myself to even think. Soon, I say. Everything is waiting, in limbo. Waiting for some urge to come through me. Waiting for some external saving grace. Because I seem completely emptied out (of everything but mucous!)
To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you everybody else, means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting.