Things I Do For Self Care

  • Read.
  • Eat.
  • Play with the cats.
  • Read and eat.
  • Sew – although it’s more often an exercise in masochism.
  • Write angry blog entries and then delete them.

Hm, the list seems a little scanty. But I’m not – and never have been – the “give yourself a pedicure / scented bubble bath / makeover” kind of person, so all those options are ruled out. Exercise should be on the list, but it feels too much like hard work.

Need to figure out what else I can put on the list.

Mid-Life Middle Class Angst

What follows is a heaping help of whining, mixed with a big dose privilege. I can see that. That said, I can’t stop feeling the way I feel – at least, not at the moment.

Here I am. 43, middle class USAian and at a total loss as to what’s next. Hm.

Nihilism has been rearing its head in a way unseen since my obligatory teen-angst years. On the one hand, indulging in such angst is, well, indulgent. Everything else is together enough to the point that I can let myself wallow in existential doubt. On the other hand, it’s a right pain in the ass.

No-one knows the meaning of life. I don’t know the meaning of MY life. Yeah, yeah, who does, but it’s really getting to me, of late. What’s the point of continuing existence, beyond the fact that it beats the alternatives? Or is that enough?

Like anyone over the age of 18 or so, death frightens me. It’s been on my mind a lot lately – my father died earlier this year, and I’m still coming to terms with that. Why should death be frightening? Because it’s an end of self-awareness, right? But it’s not like I’m going to know my own death. The switch is on or off.

Meh. So maybe this is more accurately a bout of solipsism. Fair enough.

I feel like my existence right now is just a matter of going through the motions and filling time until it ends. I feel pointless. It’s a very unpleasant feeling. I feel pointless but not suicidal – been there, almost done that, unfortunately. And there’s the problem. I’m worried that one day I’m going to ask myself what’s the point of continuing to go through the motions and the answer’s going to come back “There isn’t one. So why bother? Why not just get some sleeping pills and vodka and get it over with?”

See, that’s where things like family (love) and religion (fear of consequences) usually come in. And that’s when I remember that I’m an atheist without parents, siblings or children and the fear really starts to gnaw at me. Fortunately, I have a husband and two cats, so it’s not like I’m stuck in a barren wasteland.

This really is quite silly, in many respects. I probably just need to get out more and do some volunteer work or something… I don’t know.