Really Fucking Tired

I cannot say that I know it for a fact, but I would venture a pretty strong guess that other people experience the kinds of feelings I do at the nature of existing in the current structures that bind us: social, political, technological, what have you. This is not to say that I have had some epiphany to that effect, or that these structures are novel, or that they exist in some state beyond us that make them somehow unreachable and omnipresent; this is simply to acknowledge that much of what one would typically call their life is framed by systems that we do not readily have the ability to affect as individuals, and that many typical modes of existence maneuver in spite of or in ignorance of these systems, both of which are tiring in their own way. In ignorance, I would venture that the ability to perpetuate that ignorance is pinned upon undertaking nothing of substance which, for anyone who has felt the drudge of not feeling as though they produce value (be it for themselves, other individuals, or some chosen system of decided worth beyond themselves), can be unusually draining. Futility is a strange form of suffering. In spite, one may often need to move with such force or violence that it acutely drains them, mentally or physically, depending on the context. Protest, even just by existence in a manner that is discordant with the standard, can be exhausting.

These avenues of energy expenditure can pull at the last strings of people of varying levels of social and economic status, across a broad swath of more or less privileged demographics. I wouldn’t suggest they are unique to those with the greatest immediate, apparent suffering, nor do I imagine they spare anyone of immense wealth and privilege, or even many of the people who are generally quite satisfied with their lives. I personally find a great deal of satisfaction and fulfillment in some of my endeavors, but I still find this cloud of weight returning time and time again. I’ve spent time thinking about its origins and I still find myself at a bit of a loss, unable to pinpoint the origin, or even the primary factors from which arises. I do have ideas of things that stave it off, but only temporarily; unsurprisingly, it’s very difficult to do things when the problem is being tired of the doing.

A few of the possible origins I have considered are:

1. general depression (as a state of being or a description of a time, not necessarily a clinical diagnosis)
2. a breaking point under pressure to achieve, be it internally or externally imposed (target of that achievement ranging from classical status games or vanity to seemingly worthwhile personal growth)
3. continuous cycles of extroversion and introversion, or high and low energy, attributable to nothing specific beyond the nature of oscillation between the two (an overarching, long-term cycle of rest and action)
4. acute prods of trauma response or otherwise maladaptive behavior that spiral beyond the actual initiating event, the mental effects of which cloud judgement and memory to disguise that there is a definitive origin
5. the general malaise of societal shortcomings (exploitative economic systems, divisive and damaging political climate, lack of support for basic needs, aversion to alternatives that threaten powers that be) mounting overtime, manifesting as a depressive force, then fading back into the mental mix

In all honesty, the feelings I’m currently experiencing could be caused by any of these, or (more or at least equally as likely) a combination of these, as they are undoubtedly related in ways that would lead them to come up in concert, even if they are not necessarily causing or caused by one another.

I didn’t start this thinking “I’m going to string together a bunch of words that sound vaguely intellectual in order to ignore or temporarily relieve my own low-grade mental anguish” but it would probably be easy to convince someone that I did. In general, I am incredibly tired. I do know that I bear a number of social and emotional shortcomings, and that these are potentially hazardous to others; I know that I also struggle respond well to those in others. If I were to pick the thing that I feel most directly exhausted by, it would be the seeming futility of trying to fix the shit that I have going on, while also feeling unnecessarily responsible for helping those around me with that, and that combination leading me into weird, childish backlash against it all, as if this core aspect of life were some chore I didn’t want to start, much less to finish. I feel overwhelmingly unproductive for someone who often feels so indignant when reflecting (poorly) on how much effort I put into these problems versus that of those around me. I know that I’m doing my best; I claim to know that others are also doing their best. How often will I forget one or both of those?