The Marshmallow Ranch Gazette (Patreon)

 Volume 4, Issue 18 - Saturday, October 12th, 2019

Howdy, patrons!

I'm not going to lie -- I'm struggling a little bit here.

I feel awful about it because things are, on the whole, going well. I'm delighted to say that I actually like my new job. It has its frustrations and challenges, but I'm good at what I do, I genuinely love the people I work with, and I really feel like I'm doing something to help my fellow man. The pay could be better and it might not be the most stable company out there, but right now I'm exactly where I want to be.

Things are great at home, too. My husband and I recently celebrated our eleventh wedding anniversary and in honor of the occasion we bought a new bed frame together. Sometime soon, when we start forgetting to, we'll top it with a brand new mattress -- the first new mattress either of us has slept on in a very, very long time. We're both finding new satisfaction in our hobbies; Ryan's renewed his dedication to weightlifting and novel experiences, while I'm finding fulfillment with reviving my Buddhist studies. I'm reading more than I have in a long time, which is rekindling the fires of creativity.

But through it all, there's a voice in the back of my head that says "None of this matters. The world is ending soon."

Most days it's the background chatter, a sort of heightened "memento mori". It can even serve as motivation; there's only a limited time to take advantage of instant, ubiquitous communication and knowledge on anything ready at our fingertips. If civilization really is about to fall, then shouldn't we appreciate how good we've got it while we still have it? Shouldn't we be taking every advantage to at least get ready for what comes after this? It's morbid, but effective. It lends a sense of urgency to my days, and gives me a reason to align with the present moment as much as I can.

But there are stretches where it takes more energy to push away the nihilism inherent in the thought. When I think about pushing myself to run after a tiring day of work, or turn towards the unfinished story on my computer, that voice leaps up and pulls me towards inaction. "None of this matters. The world is ending soon."

Why should I put effort towards writing 2,000 words a week towards a story that isn't very good? Why do I run in the dark and cold when my antidepressants are making it so hard to lose weight? Why do anything but what will bring me the most short-term pleasure, or at least numb me to the reality that I am not ready for death -- mine or the rest of civilizations? What's the point of anything?

We have an unstable psycopath leading the most dangerous nation on the planet, put there by far too many people who identify with his poisonous worldview and kept there by craven, cowardly hypocrites who are willing to dismantle our society from the inside because it gives them power and money -- things that won't matter when the system propping them up collapses. A few hundred men are willing to kill the planet and everyone on it for pure short-sighted selfishness. And it's not because they're smarter or more competent. It's just because they or their ancestors figured out a way to exploit the worst flaws in our natures.

It's deflating and depressing. The trouble is I'm fairly sure it's just my mental illness latching itself on to the seed of a spiral, a thought I can't shake and will have to chew over. But holy shit, it's a good one. Over the course of years, that voice has become more insistent more often, fed by the news cycle and the digital hysteria of social media. It takes more energy to ignore it, or at least maintain a minimum of productivity against it, that there are long stretches where all I can do is my job and more immediate obligations. 

I recognize this is a problem, but I'm not sure what to do about it. Cognitive behavioral therapy teaches me to identify the instinctive trigger set off by the distorted thought and spend some time doing the opposite. If the distorted thought forces me to ruminate (the fight instinct), then I should find a way to distract myself or deflect the thought when it arises (flee). If I can't face the thought and force myself to become distracted in unhealthy ways, then dismantling the thought logically is the way to go. I really can't dismantle this thought on my own, though. It's too huge, overwhelming, complicated. I get lost in the briars of it and have to tap out. And there aren't any distractions that encourage positive behaviors and don't cost willpower. 

Now that I have a new job and health insurance, I can make an appointment with my therapist, and I have. But it's not until much later this month. In the meantime, I'm still pushing this rock uphill, as it were. It's really frustrating, though. Everything's fine -- I'm happy, I feel loved and supported and fulfilled and engaged. But things aren't fine. In my head or outside of it. 

I'm not sure when I'll be able to return to this as consistently as it deserves, but I'll keep trying. All of this is causing a pretty big blockage with my ability to write, which is not great to begin with. I hope that by being honest first and foremost will help dislodge that block, and I wanted to start here with you folks. Because honestly, your support means an awful lot to me. Despite the fact that I'm flaky and flighty and inconsistent, you're still here. You see something of worth in what I'm doing. And I draw on that to keep pushing. So thank you, so much. I really appreciate you sticking with me even when you don't have to, or probably shouldn't in this context. 

So that's it. I'll keep working to publish "Crushing The Competition" as consistently as I can, but it's harder than it should be and I wanted to share why. 

-Jakebe