If I had a dime for every time I said "I haven't written in a year"... I'd have maybe a dollar. 

I haven't even opened this blog/website in a year. But I've at least thought about it. A few days over the last year, I've stumbled out of bed after a turbulent night's sleep and thought, I'm going to write this morning.
And then I didn't.

I just read my last blog. And instantly regretted it. It was mostly about Steph, my best friend.
And she left this earth 8 days after I wrote it. No wonder I haven't come back here.

And suddenly the original ambition/inspiration for writing this morning is completely muddled.
Damnit.

So instead I spent the last two hours ripping a video from online, importing it into Adobe Audition, pulling the vocals from it, then uploading it to Smule so I could record my own version. While replying to work emails, designing work graphics, and randomly picking up things around the house.

Yep, ADHD problems.

And while I listen to that song on repeat in the background, hoping my brain will learn it subconsciously, I am drawn back to the initial reason I sat down to write.

Today's thought process (that has been plaguing me for weeks, perhaps months) is: How do you know when something in your life is nearing its expiration date? How can you tell whether or not something you love or enjoy is reaching the end of its story?

Whether it be a job, a relationship (with anyone - a partner, a friend, even a relative), a hobby/side-gig, a home or location, anything really, that you are (or were?) passionate about or connected to.

So, how do you know?

I can almost hear my mother's words about standing on a track waiting for the train... But this isn't self-sabotage (again), really it's not. 

And her other words: that this is a "hard time of year for me." Which is essentially accurate; clinically, we bipolars are cyclical, with the changing of the seasons being particularly difficult, for whatever reason.

And even if that is partially to blame, I'm legitimately curious, confused.

And because I am cryptic by nature, my mind considers this: if you're already asking "how do you know when..." then perhaps you are already there.

And now I'm sitting at my desk laughing (out loud) at myself, because these are the same words, maybe written just a little differently, that are in every other damn thing I've ever written.
My shrink always said I was really adept at recognition. Sigh. Eye roll.

Maybe my relationship is "on the rocks." Maybe my job is. Maybe my music side-gig is. Or the relationship with this friend or that friend (if I actually had any).
Or maybe I'm just on the rocks.

Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on myself. The current political climate, the crazy shit happening in the world, the cost of living, the constant upheavals in life, the mini-tragedies (and the not-so-mini ones), added to my warped bio/chemical wiring... No wonder I'm feeling like everything is "on the rocks."

I wish Steph were here to talk to.

Can you call my lifeline ‘cause I give up,
And I'll raise my white flag and just give in
‘Cause I'm barely breathing, got no reason for grieving, that's just how I feel
*We Three "Lifeline"