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It’s a resignation that my brain just automatically falls into, almost before I’m awake. Another one of those, “guess its gonna be like this today” kind of days. Head down, shoulders slumped, unfocused back and forth shuffling. Energized and sleepy.

The big sad exhale. Nothing by itself is overwhelming. Even grouped, they’re manageable. It’s just that I don’t want to do this anymore. Can I have a time out from life? Where’s my cubby hole?

And it isn’t that I’m afraid to face certain things. It’s just that when I think on them they sometimes get a wee-bit distorted. So I decide to leave it alone and come back to it later. But when I come back to it later, it’s all jumbled; even more fuzzy.

Let me be clear: we’re talking about things like cutting the grass. Or a two-hour assignment at work. It’s not that I have anything better to do, or can’t accomplish what’s in front of me, I just don’t want to, and I am questioning why bother?

Well, because cutting the grass is literally keeping my backyard clean. And the assignment pays my bills.

I don’t feel like doing steps 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 or 10. I’ve diagnosed the problem: funk. How come it keeps reoccurring? Shouldn’t identifying it take away its power?

Well let me ask you this, smart guy: Did that work for your alcoholism?

‘Nuff said.

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