You want feelings? Yes, I have feelings. I've gotten good at saying what I know people want to hear, apparently. The truth is, lately deciding what I feel hasn't been as close to the surface as it used to be. Feelings used to be palpable to me. Like hair raising on the back of you neck, goosebumps up the spine, like hovering your hand over the top of a stove, or feeling electricity spark off of another person's body when your lips are inches apart and the breathe between you is the only barrier. My feelings used to drip from a pulsating "heart on the sleeve" down my arm like a juicy, perfectly ripe peach. My feelings with a usual range of 0-5,000 are at a steady , unyielding WHOPPING level 1. My feelings, USED to be like that. They're apparently on vacation.
Lately they (and I) have become various shades of neutral. Their soundtrack is of early alarm clocks, bare feet shuffling across my hardwood floor, the flick of light switches, power buttons and everyday Greek yogurt parfait making. There's this very poorly concealed feeling of routine and unimaginative motion in my presence. Instead of really "getting wild" or even just slightly creative, I've sort of let apathy take the wheel. It's like, eh, my hair could look good....but who cares. Or, I could really work hard to get rid of that extra giggle in my waistline....but who cares. I could stay up for fifty more hours and work tirelessly towards a thing that may never, ever come and at this point....who cares. I could call, I could try, I could surrender, I could cook, I could join, I could say....and so on....but, who cares. Uninspiring? Yeah, no shit. I'm no Pollyanna tonight. This isn't your routine self-help pick me up. Wa wa waaaaaa.
The day-t0-day motivation that has governed, strictly directed and conducted my existence for the past four years has become such a part of my mainstream life, that its slowly turned into something, frankly, unremarkable. The drive behind all my actions is now habit, it isn't sparked by some divine inspiration. It's business. And when something that you love turns into "business" the spirit of the thing itself is threatened. The spirit now has rules, the spirit now has obligations and expectations.
There's days where I feel like everything I'm doing is replaceable and the worst part is that it IS. If they hadn't hired me, they would've hired someone else, if we hadn't met you'd be meeting so and so, if I didn't show, if I quit, if I gave up, all things which I've decided "validate" my existence would prove their worthlessness. Whether I show up or someone else does, who cares. I used to call my best fried "brick brain" when she would fall into this impenetrable state of aloofness, this sort of head-detached-from-body -stoicism, then when I put myself on the other side of a conversation with me recently all I see is this gigantic CLOUD where I should be, behind it a BRICK WALL.
Every word for apathy pertains to me right now and THAT is how I'm feeling. I don't feel funny, or super witty and brilliant. I don't feel sexy or seductive. I don't feel like I could walk into a room and beam "good energy Starlet magnetism." I don't feel like emails are that important, I don't feel like the voicemails, or the conference calls, or the blogging, or the obligations mean ANYTHING. I am detached. I'm halfhearted and overly caffeinated. I am unfeeling, emotionless, aloof and indifferent.
My organs, every inch of the inside of my body feels asleep. No amount of yoga, or a stair stepper or someone hiding behind a corner to shock me into the present would do anything to "plug" me back into to being. What will? At this point...who cares.