I blew off belly dancing class last night. I just didn't see the point in it. I'm getting depressed, aren't I? My therapist warned me that this might (probably) happen soon, if not already. It's hard to find good reasons to do stuff. I blew off the drumming circle last weekend, something I've been dying to do for quite some time. My lovely and wonderful daughter gave me some stuff from her job that they were throwing out and I haven't even tried them out yet. Two new 2B signature sticks and a Zildjan crash cymbal! None of my cymbals are this good. And I can't get the energy up yet to put them to the test.
My drums keep calling to me every day when I walk in the door - and I just ignore them. I've given myself permission to draw whatever I want, and I haven't done that either. It's too much effort. Sex is pretty much unimportant too. Maybe I do need some anti-depressant drug. Why should I keep feeling this way? Kind of foolish, actually.
I think I'll make a call to my doctor about this. Stop putting it off, hoping it will go away. It's becoming obvious to me that it won't, and I'll just end up missing out on fun, meeting new people, trying new things, having great experiences, one more year.