I'm not in the mood

I am feeling yucky lately. I can't seem to figure out what is really wrong, just that I don't want to do anything at all and in the meantime I get ridiculously anxious about everything because I am not doing anything. That's why I haven't posted in a while. I feel like I don't have anything to say nor do I have the energy to articulate it. I feel burnt out. Stuck in a rut. Nothing seems exciting in my life. Having Pickle in my life is something that has become a given. I love her and she loves me and we bring each other great joy and happiness, but that doesn't seem to be enough to constitute an exciting life. Our stability is something that takes pressure off of my anxiety, since I don't have to worry about dramatic relationship on-goings, but I still feel like something is missing. I feel bored and borring and yucky. Yucky is the only way I can describe this.

On Friday I went on a cleaning frenzy. I left a certain company function early to go home and do the massive amounts of laundry that had been piling up. Things left over from other laundry days like towels and the down comforter. I did laundry like a mad woman. I cleaned the house and dealt with winter clothes and storage. Storage! All by myself! I climbed on top of dangerous plastic bins to get to the top shelf above our closet so that I could rearrange the storage. I had ambitions to mop! I didn't get around to that one, but even the ambition is impressive. I wanted our apartment clean so that it could be one thing I didn't have to worry about. And then I was done. The apartment is mostly clean. I have been keeping on top of doing the dishes. What can I do with the energy that I was once used to worry about cleaning the apartment now? I was stumped. That's how I felt all weekend.

The weekend had ambitions. Pickle and I were going to go to a reading event in Bryant Park. An early morning NY T*mes Op-Ed Panel, Eve Ensler in the afternoon, and a hip-hop dance group that I was a part of (in their San Francisco troupe) for a couple of months when I was 14. We were ready. We got up Saturday morning at a reasonable time and took a mess of trains to get there. Only to find out it was on Sunday! Ha. Of course. Silly me for not double checking the date on the website that Pickle forwarded me. Our own fault. We lost all ambition after that. We got up Sunday to do the same thing all over again. We woke up early and made a delicious breakfast like the day before, but decided to wait until the afternoon to go. Then, decided not to go at all. We really lost our ambition and the trains seemed like so much trouble to do all over again. We went for a walk in the park, though. That was good. It was the first time Pickle had even been to Prospect Park! We went to the gym and I worked out hard. Then, the yuckiness was the worst last night. Sunday nights are always hard for me. They always signify the end of the weekend and in the past, crunch time for homework. I used to get really depressed particularly on Sundays in college.

Then I got anxious about calling a friend and my mother. I feel guilty about not talking to either of them enough, especially my mother because she points it out, but I just couldn't do it. I wanted to do nothing and worry about calling them instead. I wanted to watch Grey's and drink some wine and go to bed and not speak at all and I didn't want to figure out what was wrong.

Oh, the wellbutrin. I just got my refill yesterday after a full week of not having it. Between the far away doctor and the new pharmacy, something didn't happen and so I was out of it for a week. Yes, that could be the thing that has been making me feel yucky, but I wish it wasn't. I hope it isn't. I want to get off of the medicine since I was under the impression that it was just an aid that I was using to quit smoking. I have quit successfully. I don't want to smoke and I don't want to be a smoker. I may miss it and want them sometimes, but in reality I don't want them. I don't want their taste or smell or to break my successful quitting. I want to go off of that medicine so badly. I felt like this week was a test to see if I could do it. And for a while, I was fine without it. But the weekend showed me that a) I can't just stop taking medicine and I know better and b) I still might need it.

Oh, and my period. I got that last night. For the first time in over 1 year of living together (we essentially lived together in college, just alternating dorm rooms) we both have our periods at the same time. That could be. But the yuckiness seems different. It is the real life yuckiness.

I am bored with myself. I don't particullarly hate my job, but I don't like it. I am uninspired. I am taking care of myself really well. We eat well and now we exercise well, but that isn't enough to motivate me or make me feel better. I am not even in the mood to finish this post.