I’m having a hard time connecting. As simple as that sentence is to utter, the thoughts and emotions behind it are anything but orderly.
I’m so tired. I’m tired of wanting intimate, true connections with life—with my friends, my passions, and my loved ones—and having my efforts and my wishes fall flat. I’m also physically tired, as if no amount of caffeine or determination can rouse my body.
I can be a vibrant, powerful person as long as my “tank” (the reservoir of love, energy, motivation, and ideas that propel me through my lives) is full. But for some reason that tank is slowly evaporating. I’m bent over the lip of this tank—this barrel of resources—scooping at the seams where the last moisture resides and slurping at air just to feel sustained. I need to be filled up. But where do I go?
I can’t really call myself “depressed,” though I suppose some might classify it as such. I can’t say I’m sad; my life is going well, and although I have some worries, I should not complain for a moment. I’m so blessed, so able, and best of all: I am loved. I wish that singular Truth would get through my thick skull and satisfy me. But here I am, asking, quite selfishly, for more. But what do I desire? Do I need to have deep conversations? Do I need physical touch? Am I lacking intellectual stimulation? Do I need more outside affirmation? I want the joy of life to occur without outside effort (why put others to work at fixing your heart?), so I sincerely think the issues are basically internal.I can’t blame anyone else for my lack of motivation, absence of thrill, and seemingly endless supply of isolation.
So here I am, baring what’s actually going on inside to people who doesn’t even know who I am. I suppose I could post this in my RL blog, but I tend to keep things private there, too.
How does an extrovert become so internalized?
I will tear myself away from this heavy funk, put on my dancing shoes, and find a way back to the music in no time. Thema will be Thema! I’m sure of it.