I don’t know why, or what really triggers it, but some days I get out of bed and drink my coffee…but my day never really starts. I just get absolutely stuck, an immovable object. Today is the start of a holiday weekend and a stretch of beautiful weather, but I had no momentum. I got just enough real work done to feel like I earned my salary (barely) but just…gave up after that. I could have gone riding, my first trail ride in over a month! I could have done a dressage focused ride, or seen my horse at all, or gone to hang with friends at Mandorla. I have a whole list of house related items that need attention, and some volunteer work to chunk away at.

Instead I just blobbed on the couch, reading mostly and playing games on my phone. Every fleeting thought that I should get up and do something, even a minor task, was met with an intensely heavy feeling, like lifting the two hundredth bale of hay to be stacked. I could have sent some more emails, or put laundry away, taken Benny for a walk or given him a bath with his anti-itch soap, or even just put a bra on at some point. Instead, the couch has been the bounds of my world for the afternoon and evening. I never feel worthy of Tarma on these days, and she doesn’t deserve to be dealing with me when I’m all muddled.

I only have questions and weariness. Am I just home from two intense months of traveling, of being constantly on the move, so this is my body’s way of resetting? Am I slightly depressed because I’m no longer exploring, and the daily humdrum has set in again? Do I need to set some kind of closer in plan or event to look forward to, instead of dreading that all the most fun stuff for the year is behind us? Is the doomscrolling finally sinking into me and the realization that not even a local school levy can pass and we are so, so fucked on this runaway probable end of America as we thought we knew it flaming hand basket? Do I feel impossibly stupid for not having set enough funds aside for when Kade’s 18, because I honestly have no idea what choices he’ll have and the amount I would and should have set aside wouldn’t have made much of a dent in whatever he’ll need to do from 18-23 or so? Am I bad parent for not trying to save harder, for seizing the day and the horses and the trips in the meantime instead? Should I have sacrificed more of my sanity towards saving more? Making entirely different choices and being a different person so he could be different and have different choices?

All of the above can be true, but so also can the more basic things: I only worked out once this week; my last ride, while lovely, was on Sunday; I haven’t seen a fruit since Tuesday; I last walked Benny on Wednesday; and some, hmmm *censored for the under-18 set* wouldn’t hurt either. The mind clearing ability of such things can be immensely beneficial, and much healthier choices than booze when in these kinds of funks. Tomorrow I’ll set my alarm a bit early, and take Benny for a walk before I pack a lunch and head over to audit the Mary Kitzmiller clinic, and hopefully kick this funk back to the basement where it belongs.