This post was supposed to be about Thailand
I’ve been having a weirdly hard time the past couple of days.
I don’t know what triggered it, but sometimes there’s just a whole rush of stuff that comes. My traditional methods of drink electrolytes + stretch + physical exercise + journal + talk to friends don’t seem to work. It helps, don’t get me wrong. It helps a lot, and I would be just kinda done without it, but it takes a while for things to return to normal.
The way I started this blog, I anticipated that one day I would get overwhelmed and forget about it. I gave myself a 30-day head start on finishing blog posts. By the time June 1st rolled around, I had June 30th’s post already finalized and ready to go. That lead has disappeared and it feels like the real Saurya has caught up once again.
There’s something odd about identifying that inner voice that pushes me to do more more more as somehow less me than the body that just wants to lay in bed and recover from what just feels like…a lot. It’s this constant feeling of how I “should” be fine and I “should” have the energy.
In terms of sheer volume, I’d written a ton for my Thailand post, but the idea of sorting through it and writing it all out was too daunting. I have writing projects and personal projects and all these goals from a few weeks ago which seem to take an inordinate amount of resolve to push through at the moment. I’m hoping this feeling of lethargy breaks soon and I can feel like myself again. I would like that very much. Maybe the mistake I made is thinking that there is one self that I am going to return to. This person, the one who doesn’t want to deal with anything and feels endlessly guilty about things that happened 8 years ago or 20 years ago is also me.
A large portion of this is the disappointment in my expectations of myself post-lockdown. I truly believed that I would draw healthy boundaries once the world opened up, not simply exhaust myself socially. But I didn’t do that! I abandoned my personal projects and the things that make me effortlessly happy, like talking to high school, college and Google friends. I pushed myself too hard in the pool and injured my right shoulder. I ate unhealthily. I didn’t rest enough. Drank too much coffee. However, I didn’t drink much alcohol (I realize how anxious it makes me feel for a few days after) and I put a pause on all dating, so I suppose some boundaries seem to have held up.
I think I expected to like the outside world more after all that lockdown. I didn’t. I can’t help but feel that there’s something wrong with me. Why don’t I want things the way others do? Why did all my desire disappear so fast? I feel angry at myself for not being able to handle the world again.
“This is how we get left behind.”
“Just hiding and writing doesn’t do anyone any good.”
“One day you’ll regret leaving everyone in your life to work on your little toys.”
I seem to have sapped the fun out of my own joys.