It could be called something different, for example if we wanted to talk about it neurobiolocially, it’s anhedonia, the inability to feel.
Point is though, this is becoming my default. It isn’t that I want to talk about it, it’s that if I don’t it’ll fester into poison which will slowly kill me. As in yes, where I am is unpleasant, but it could get worse.
I think it comes back to the finiteness of reward, and the specificity of my tastes. I don’t get pleasure from the majority of movies, same is true of games. Finding one that hits that motivation core is a wonderful experience, at first anyway. Later on, as that desire decays, and my motivation sags, it feels unavoidable that I will return to where I am now; nowhere, no one, nothing does it for me.
Another part of it has to be that physical arousal is difficult, but being an American I don’t have the appropriately clinical language to discuss that. It just sucks. I want to be intimate, and I have opportunity, what I lack is desire.
Anyway, I found a game that I enjoyed thinking about outside of game time, and that was a thrill. Now it’s gone. The question is what’s next? I can put in a bit more work on grad school application, but deep inside I suspect that will be pointless. One form of relief I found was in getting high on cannabis, but there are some physical limitations that cause my available dose to stay low. I can’t smoke anymore…. like pretty much at all, my throat has lost whatever it once had allowing me to smoke.
IDK, which is what I seem to be saying most of the time now. I’m so tired and depressed I can’t even state definitively how it is. It seems like if I understood the situation, I could escape. I don’t, hence the imprisonment. There’s also the danger of false positives; sometimes I come up with an explanation that works, but it’s not true, just convenient.
Sometimes it just makes me tumble down into almost complete nihilism. Nothing matters, nothing is true, no one really cares outside of their own interest.
But then there’s that voice in the back of my head; “You sure about that?”
and I’m not. I don’t even know if it is possible to be sure, given these inputs. All human effort and achievement is based on the evidence of our senses. Our senses that lie and trick us on a regular basis. Maybe I’m in a coma and this is all a fever dream…… that’s a somewhat comforting thought…
but I try to take things as they are, not as I would prefer them. It’s another reason that I don’t think that any solid strategies are useful outside of being very very lucky. Know the right people, that’s the secret of life right there, and if you don’t, well good luck with that.
Anyway, my solution for this right now is to take my night meds and go to sleep. Yes, in the morning all this unpleasantness will still be here, but I’ll get to go after it with coffee, at least for the first few hours anyway.
Man this cuts straight to my heart. Same with everything except cannabis because I don’t have a connection and it’s still illegal in my state. But the feeling you described is so true about diminishing pleasure from things like movies, music, games, fresh air… you name it.
I vaguely remember from high school reading a French poem (Proust?) about eating pieces of cake, but each bite is slightly less enjoyable than the last, until all enjoyment is gone. I suddenly wonder if that’s a metaphor for every day of our lives.
I’ll admit the world has infinite possibilities, meaning infinite opportunities to find something new and exciting. But we seem to be flooded with banal shit. Cookie cutter movies that repeat the same insulting formula. 4 minute songs with the same chords, same words recycled. I agree that sleep, dreams and drugs are probably the only times our minds get to experience something truly new. But then we always wake up back here, so every feeling ends the same after all.