"I can categorize my hours as either (a) hopeful, almost unaware states of planning and laughing and enjoying, or (b) deeply quiet moments where I think that those periods of happiness are only distraction, distraction from the utterly lonely, Troy Maxson-like existence of chasing after fulfillment and community."
I often feel this way, Leigh. For me, it's just a part of existing. To have some control over the melancholy is to survive.
4) There is nothing more to life than the planning/laughing/enjoying side fighting with the quiet/existential/lonely side. The trick is to find the correct balance. Too much of (a) and you become one of those vapid, shallow-happiness people you look down upon in a sour-grapes sort of way when you're depressed. Too much of (b) and you never leave the house. The ideal is to be both fun and interesting, ecstatic and soulful, burning up the dance floor at night and making cogent arguments over brunch the next morning.
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I often feel this way, Leigh. For me, it's just a part of existing. To have some control over the melancholy is to survive.
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2) I'm right there with you on most of this
3) You already knew that
4) There is nothing more to life than the planning/laughing/enjoying side fighting with the quiet/existential/lonely side. The trick is to find the correct balance. Too much of (a) and you become one of those vapid, shallow-happiness people you look down upon in a sour-grapes sort of way when you're depressed. Too much of (b) and you never leave the house. The ideal is to be both fun and interesting, ecstatic and soulful, burning up the dance floor at night and making cogent arguments over brunch the next morning.
5) Your balancing act looks good from here.
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