Well, it’s 2020. The early ’00s, let alone the ’90s, finally feel like they were a long-arse time ago. That’s about the only difference I’ve been able to spot so far.
Oh, and I think whatever’s going on with my moods is coming to a middle. Yesterday I used up every last scrap of my will to live by about midday, and just went back to bed until about four. Sat listlessly with nothing much on my user interface (but a whole parade of CPU-eating shit going on in my Task Manager Processes tab) for a few more hours. Watched Frozen with Toop. Played Minecraft. Then went back to bed again and blacked out until this morning.
Usually writing helps, and Mrs. Hatboy is constantly and heroically helpful and supportive in this, but usually by the time she realises she needs to excuse me from reality, it’s too late and reality has done its kicking. Plus, paradoxically and shittily, I feel like I’m abandoning her and the girls. Like my continuing blank and miserable short-tempered presence is doing anything to enrich their day. But still, between the exhaustion and the feeling of guilt, I lose the desire to write too. So there’s no way out, which is why I collapsed yesterday.
Starting to feel a bit more normal now (venting helps), but still very much not in the mood for any of this shit.
But not much alternative, really.