Functioning at a High Level...

...is overrated.

Or at least that's what I'm telling myself.

School is coming up oh-so-quickly. I've been counting the days, since baseball ended that is. The kids have been bored and I've been at a physical standstill.

I berate myself daily about how little I've gotten done.

Truth be told, I have zero motivation. None. Zip. Zilch.

I thought it would return after The Patriarch went back out of town. Knowing I didn't have the advantage of waiting for him to do it should have kicked me into high gear. Instead, it has put me in complete Park mode.

I do the absolute minimum that I'll let myself get away with. Which, some days, is no more than getting out of bed and making sure the kids aren't killing each other.

This often incurs lectures from my mom about how I need to, "get off my ass," to quote her directly.

What my mom, and countless other people, haven't come to understand is that no matter how much I want to "get off my ass," sometimes I just cannot.

I go to bed thinking about all the things that I want to accomplish the next day because I managed so little that particular day. I have lists of things that should be done. In my defense, if it's pressing and needs to get done I do it, but if it can wait, it does.

I put on a pretty good front for my acquaintances, most wouldn't guess that behind closed doors I suffer from debilitating depression. Hell, some of my close friends were shocked when they figured it out.

I'm not depressed in a way that makes me suicidal. I have too much to live for. Those three pains in my ass, The Patriarch, and my mom are the first five things that come to mind. Although, I do wonder at times if they wouldn't be better off without this lump that can go from quietly reading to ready to snap at break-neck speed. That's always as far as it goes.

I sit in front of my computer every day with the intention to work on my next book. Every. Single. Day. Then the voice in my head starts. It questions why I even bother, I'll never be good, I'll never be a best seller. It tells me all the negativity surrounding everything I do. Sometimes, I reach in the back of my brain and kick his ass, other days, he wins. I don't write.

Everything that I enjoy doing has its own voice of doom. Even things that I don't enjoy doing but are an evil necessary have one.

When it's time to work, "Don't take that job, you're not a real teacher anyhow."

When it's time to play, "They only hang out with you because they feel bad for you."

When it's time to clean, "Why bother, it won't ever be good enough."

When there's time for sex, "Seriously, you want to get naked? Have you seen yourself?"

Every. Damn. Thing.

And sometimes I fight it off and I win, but most of the time, I just sit there. Sit there and do nothing until the shame spiral leads me deep into the catacombs where it takes days or weeks to even attempt to function again.

So, if you see me out, know that day I kicked that little bastard's ass. If I don't answer my phone, know I'm battling or recouping. If you see a blog post after some time of silence, I won the skirmish, but not the battle. It's that complicated.

~Kim