The last year and a half has been pretty crap my end. Top line: half a dozen deaths and two bad illnesses in and around the family, living in hostels for a few months because I had to move out of a rented gaff ASAP, and dealing with panic attacks (they’re gross, avoid at all costs).
And so, because I’m not a psychopath, I made a point of keeping the work low effort and steady. I took a cushy job or two. As a person who writes for a living like a meandering Oscar Wilde prick, this wasn’t a fun time but it was essential. I was surviving. When life began to settle down again, I was hit with a bad spell of depression on top of the dysthymia (persistent depressive disorder) I already have to deal with. I am 27, I had been 25 when it all kicked off. I was in a rut, losing the end of my twenties (boohoo, I know).
I felt like my life was stuck on pause. I was there, desperately wanting to resume and fast forward my progression, scrolling mindlessly for dopamine, getting irate at every unimportant email that came through, not that I was putting much out into the world to get important emails back . I generally had no idea how to hit action again, how to even pick up this metaphorical remote I seem to have visualised instead of a crossroad for the moment. One day I woke up and thought about how depressed I had been over the past few months and said fuck it, I’m quitting the day job. And quit the day job, I did.
In some ways, this was daft of me. I earned a bit on the side (legally, ask my accountant) so I wasn’t completely fucked, but it did mean I am now living month to month with no guarantee of income. I am happier, scrappy as it is. I wonder if this is down to the stress of it, nothing gives you a kick up the ass the morning after like realising you’ve earned £0 in a day and still spent £35 on pints. And that was you going easy on it.
Happier though, yeah. I have a lot more time on my hands to work on pushing ahead and doing the shit I want to do. I’m swimming against the tide again, which I prefer to fucking about like a corpse on the lazy river. Hopefully, it’ll come good and I’ll have the discipline to continue sitting at my desk each day, trying to make stuff happen. If not, I’ll just get a day job again for a bit, and perhaps a lobotomy.