[Originally written in OpenOffice while riding in the vanpool this morning.]
Yesterday I had a mood crash. I don’t know any other way to describe it, the familiar sensation of being totally out of joint mentally and emotionally. “Tired and sad” is what I wrote over and over again in my journal, but add to that frightened and irritable.
Today I can feel the ripples of it, the echoing vulnerability to any passing thought or event. Some part of me wants to break down and cry at the sight of a highly visible run in my brand-new knee socks. And I know that’s not quite right, but the feeling lingers nonetheless.
In the interests of better mental health in the future, I want to analyze the experience. Can it be avoided, or at least ameliorated, next time? (I’m old enough to know that there will be a next time.)
Physically, I rode less than usual; I slept and ate about the same. My caffeine intake was fairly normal.
[redacted musings about interpersonal & intrapersonal aspects of work]
That’s the tipping point. I can feel it. The feeling of being a small thing alone in a vast bureaucratic ocean.
Which leaves me vulnerable, emotionally, to all sorts of other negative thoughts. And it’s so hard to kick myself out of it. I knew that what I wanted yesterday was retreat, and retreat into work – the solitary creative kind – felt like a good bet. Today I feel the same way. I’m inclined to find some project and vanish into the computer.
But I’m wondering if that’s the wrong decision entirely. Not that I know what to do instead, of course. Tonight we’re going over to the park, and hopefully some people will show up (and hopefully it won’t pour) and I can/will be sociable in that context. As for today? Just being aware seems like a good starting point.