The difficulty I have is writing about what I’m feeling without seeming melodramatic, but saying something is better than saying nothing. Here goes. Eve Sedgwick captures the feeling when she writes that what she fears from depression is

I may stop knowing
how to like and desire
the world around me.

Regarding a previous post, Heidi asks, “What does traction feel like, vs. drifting?” Traction feels like caring about something, like motivation, like hope in a future outcome more desirable than the present situation. I currently don’t have any of that.

Denise asks, “Why not create something that provides the traction that you need rather than waiting for it to come to you?” And the answer is, Because right now I have no idea how to do that. But rather than stay in my living room 24/7, I’m doing my best to go out and do things in hopes of finding something.

Here’s an open call for suggestions: I will do the first five things that are suggested from the first five people to post comments to this entry. Seriously.

I wake up in a house built the year my grandmother was born in a part of town settled around the time her parents were born. My cat rubs her face against whichever part of my body sticks out from under the covers. Groggily walking into the kitchen, I pop open a can of food for her and pour myself a cup of coffee. Soon, the windows are all opened — I’m resisting turning on the air conditioning as long as possible — and the front door is propped open a bit for feline exploration. I read, check email, do a bit of website building, visit the usual sites. In the middle of the day the lawn might get watered. After much procrastination, I head to the gym. Then maybe more reading. In the evening I might have people over or go to a friend’s house. Maybe we go out somewhere.

I like it here, but I’m kind of drifting. Perhaps there’s nothing I can do about that except wait for something that provides traction to reappear. I don’t know what to blog.