Next Floor, Sub-Basement Two

There’s nothing better than waking up and having an existential crisis. I can’t be the only one who this happens to. But here I am.

Some days I can put it aside and push the feeling of doom aside and get to work. Other days it’s a struggle to get myself to believe that I’m even capable of making it through the morning let alone the rest of the day, week, month or (shudder) the year.

If I have a task to do that is clear and well-defined, then sitting down and just picking it up and doing it is usually easy. Push out the noise and focus on that for a bit. Flow comes and shit gets done and I feel like a winner.

But all too often…poof. A Slack message about something stupid and trivial, or email about something that isn’t my fucking problem or some other distraction triggers me and it’s gone.

The worst part is that the good flow is replaced by a different kind of flow—a negative state where my entire focus is consumed by feelings of dread, self-doubt, uselessness.

Escaping that state is the complete opposite of the very easy ejection from positive flow. Distractions just add to the mess. Trying to ”think” my way out of it has the reverse effect. The thoughts contribute to a deeper negative state because they are all negative.

I used to be able to go for a run to get out of this world. These days, if I have a good podcast or a favourite album to listen to, then sometimes I can get into a better place if I run my usual route and just drop into a place where I don’t need to think. Put it in autonomous mode and just run the same route, the same turns, the same views.

If the podcast is good, I can replace the negative thoughts with thinking about a problem that isn’t mine. If the song it good, I can consider a lyric that takes me out of my world and into another one. But the moment the run ends, or the podcast is over, or a song that hits too close to home comes on…poof. The negative thoughts flood in. Down into my dark hole I go yet again.

I feel useless. “Well, if it helps, I think you are important and you do good work.” Thanks. It actually doesn’t.

I feel like an imposter. “Well, if it helps, everyone here respects you and thinks you are a great contributor.” Thanks. It actually doesn’t.

I feel like I can’t accomplish anything. “Well, if it helps, here’s a big list of all the things you’ve done that matter.” Thanks. It actually doesn’t.

Confronted with evidence that how I feel is incorrect, my natural thought is to assume that the evidence is false or that it doesn’t actually mean anything.

No matter how many times I push the up button to call an elevator, the car heads to the basement as soon as I get on and the doors close.

The most frustrating part of it all is that I know it’s happening. I know I’m doing it. And still… “Going down. Next floor, sub-basement two”.

Man, what is wrong with you? Even when shown evidence to the contrary, you can’t even accept it and be happy? Fuck man. Get your shit together.

I wish.