In the nearly two weeks since I last managed to write something here, I’ve been thinking a lot about productivity and initiative. The thing is, I’ve kind of had a lot lately, and I’m taking on new projects with a kind of gusto I rarely achieve in any aspect of my life.
And, I must admit, I’ve kind of been cheating on this blog in favour of writing dumb, newsy posts for the place where I work, and soon I’ll be adding fun, newsy posts for the library where I volunteer to that list. It’s not that I’m not doing anything. And it’s not that I don’t have all kinds of ideas for things I want to write down bouncing around in my head. It’s not that I don’t have a bunch of half-baked posts in my drafts. It’s just that I’m not quite inspired to sit down and write any of those ideas down lately.
And this is worrying me, because I kind of love having this blog. It’s a good thing in my life. But I think that my desire to maintain a semi-regular posting schedule is starting to make me treat writing like one of the regular, never-ending chores that have to be done over and over in order to simply be a person in the world.
I’m talking, of course, about things like dishes, and laundry, and shaving. You do them again and again, and they never get you anywhere but back to square one. And it doesn’t matter how many times you do it, you’re going to have to do it again. To me, very often, the thought of doing dishes is simply too exhausting, to defeating to contemplate.
Now, I’m under the impression that this is, in fact, a characteristic attitude of depressed people toward these kinds of tasks. And I mean, if you’re not really in love with your life in the first place, it makes sense that you wouldn’t be willing to put so much work into maintaining it, and chores would fall by the way-side. I’ve been reading Prozac Nation this week, and it’s certainly one of the aspects of her depression, and she even references how, in The Bell Jar, Esther Greenwood wishes at one point that she could simply shampoo her hair once, and just be done with it.
And boy, do I empathize with that sentiment (even if I happen to actually take joy in showers and shampooing). And, I mean, I am certainly a person who suffers from depression, a depression I used to be able to trace back to when I was nine years old (though I can’t remember those young ages as clearly any more as I used to, and am thus less sure about it all). But, really, when I think about it, it astounds me that anyone, anywhere, regardless of how mentally healthy the may be, could possibly see day-to-day tasks that get in the way of our just plain living as anything other than utter drudgery.
Like, if anyone thinks about it for more than two seconds, this *has* to be obvious, right? Is there actually another way of looking at these things? Some positive (or even neutral) light that can be shed on them?
I don’t know.
And for the record, I don’t really think I’ve been feeling quite that negatively toward this blog. I just haven’t quite had the will-power to get myself to sit still for long enough to produce something real. But hopefully, I’ll be back up to snuff soon!