Sisyphus and the Mental State

“I’m tired of spinning my wheels...”
- Montgomery Gentry, “Speed”

I’m too sensitive. The slightest slip of tongue can shudder my sense of well-being to the depths of my consciousness and shatter my self-perception into tiny shards that cannot be realigned regardless of the efforts expended in such a manner. But by the same token, tiny seemingly insignificant observations can flood me with comfort and glee. For instance, I woke around 1:15 this morning and glanced out the window to see a slim sprinkling of snow over the ground. In a sort of serpentine pattern at the bottom of my stairwell looped a familiar pattern of small paws and larger floppy-type feet: rabbit tracks! In an instant I had returned to a USM field trip wherein we visited some outdoor hiking trail to learn to track particular animals, and one of the tour guides asked someone to demonstrate how a rabbit hops. They do it in a particular manner, and I was the only one able to do so correctly. It filled me with such pride to execute the demonstration successfully. And now, no matter what I do, I cannot seem to replicate the sentiment.

I can’t believe I’m 25. I don’t know where I thought I would be now, but it had to do with a stable mental state I thought I would be able to acquire twelve years after The Illness. Not to sound morbid and morose, but it seems perpetually beyond my reach. I’m like Sisyphus, cursed to roll my mindset toward sanity only to watch it retreat regardless of my input, and repeat this throughout eternity.