My Windows 98 PC is out of commission at least until the upcoming weekend, so I’m having to write this elsewhere. The Radeon 9200 SE graphics card, one that was originally issued as a replacement by the seller I bought the computer from only a handful of months ago, randomly decided to quit on me. The colorful screensaver displayed on my 19-inch Gateway CRT monitor abruptly cut to black as I was placing a refrigerator-cooled bottle of sugar free Propel down on the desk in preparation to sit in my new $600 ergonomic office chair and begin working on something. Instead, I had to spend the last afternoon before my night job picked back up for the week scrambling to diagnose the problem and source a replacement AGP card that was both reasonably affordable and up to specifications, a deep spelunking into old forum posts and digital marketplaces that left me feeling more weighed down by the time I emerged.
This event was enough to ruin my mood for most of the day. The remaining sliver of weekend free time was wrested from me by forces beyond my control, time I likely would’ve spent getting started on a creative project of some kind, or working on one already in progress. Something like this shouldn’t have sent me into a spiral, but it was more like the straw that broke the camel’s back than a self-contained inconvenience that otherwise would have been resolved nearly as quickly as it began.
Lately, I’m back to feeling as if I lack control over whether I'll feel mentally sound enough to do something productive with my off time, or even have enough energy to think clearly. I eat nutritious vegetarian meals and fast intermittently when I can stand it, I exercise fairly regularly, I’m taking vitamins and medication that I need, I get plenty of sleep—maybe too much sleep—and I’ve been minimizing my screen time before bed by reading for an hour during most nights. I don’t drink sugary drinks or eat sweets. I have one cup of black coffee per day with breakfast. I only drink alcohol once or twice a month. The one consumable vice I allow myself to indulge in has been drastically cut back and may be cut off indefinitely, I haven't been able to enjoy it as much as I used to. What’s more is that I continue to have plenty of free time, even in the midst of a “busy” season at work—considerably more time than an average working-age adult with a full time job, a commute and a family.
Something’s not right with me. I’ve been trying to take stabs at what that is over the past...I don’t know. Going to the doctor, going on a diet, curbing bad habits, stabs in the dark.
I almost want to find out that I have some incurable malady, or that it’s long COVID, or I’m just ADHD, or I’ve got some genetic defect I’ve had my whole life and never noticed until recently. I want to reveal this discrete condition so I can pack it away in a box and shove it in a side door for safekeeping. The certainty would at least bring some comfort, however cold it may be.
It might actually be more horrifying to learn that nothing is wrong with me. The weight of the world is crushing my soul, just like everyone else with a conscience, and therefore it's normal to feel like this all the time. If seeing things for what they are makes me depressed, or autistic, or socially maladjusted, or politically extreme, then am I really the problem?
More from me in October 2025: Bad Intentions