julianne moore, far from heaven, blank, blankety blank, go blank, black out, faze out

Going blank

I am known for a kind of low-level combustibility. I never shout. I rarely cry. But I care. Cared. I have strongly held opinions. Had. I worry about the parlous state of democracy. Worried.

Because I’ve gone sort of blank. I reached peak bother and now I can’t be bothered. I’ve gone floppy – not so much bend like the bamboo as sag like the sofa. Sometimes I can’t even summon up the motivation to properly focus my eyes. I just gaze, all blurry, and rather enjoy the laziness. Please note: this is not depression and nor is it compassion fatigue, it’s just a different approach for now. A kind of emotional sabbatical. I still love people and pie and telly and my bed. I still laugh and chat and swear at other (stupider, ruder) drivers. But I have taken a step back and it feels rather grown-up, oddly. Is this what they mean by a ‘mellowing’?

It’s a kind of squishy armour. I just want a break from being metaphorically stabbed all day, every day. I’m not in the market for emotional risk. If you lose the lows, they say, then you lose the highs but I am not finding it so. The highs just have a different, vaguely more reassuring quality because my moods are marginally less vulnerable to repeated, sudden and extreme change.

And it’s a way to be held, rather than be poisoned, by tiredness. I feel less moany, less beleaguered and more myself. In a totally different and slightly unrecognisable way. I am at one with absolutely nothing. And…. breathe.

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