My mood is sensationally poopy today, and I had hoped that a plain ol’ easy run would help. Not really! Now I just have less energy to be all aggro. But I finished the run (3 miles on the treadmill, or 3.4 on the thingum) in 41 minutes. It’s done. Moving on.
Every now and then I experience a profound dissatisfaction with… well, everything. I know it’s only temporary, and now that I’ve sat with it enough times, in a way it’s good because it sort of gets me out of my ruts, kicks me out of complacency. But honestly, nothing good will come of finally being honest with my boss and telling him I think one of our projects is worthless bullshit and I don’t want to work on it anymore, or getting mad at my partner about an aspect of our relationship I’m not happy with, or quitting my job and throwing whatever belongings fit in my car and going… somewhere else. (Preferably somewhere warm, but that’s a different kind of gripe.) But these kinds of actions I can store up and deal with at a later date, when I feel a bit more rational.
However, in the moment I’m still filled with all these urges and inevitably I wind up turning the discontentment back at myself, where it starts to cause real problems. Because if I can’t express it outwardly, what else can I do with it? I’m much better about self-harm than I used to be, but I struggle with dissatisfaction with my body and body image. This meatsack I live in is so stubborn and uncooperative, and such an easy target.
But it passes. I just have to sit with it a while.