18 NOV 81
What is my life? A lens out of focus. A voice muffled and far away. Everything is murky. Indistinct. Washed out. Except it is my feelings that are dulled. I haven't any energy at all. Haven't any enthusiasm...for anything.
When I'm caught in this THING, salt fails to enhance the flavor of my food. Every dish Virginia makes tastes the same, and I know she is a top-notch cook. Cordon Bleu School. But it all tastes the same to me now.
I never notice if it's sunny or raining. Mild or biting.
I've come to expect that every day will be grey.
9 DEC 81
It is such a heavy, dull dragging sensation - this depression. At times I imagine that I am a creature from a small planet, and that I have just landed on earth. The gravity is so great I can barely lift my head off the pillow. I can barely lift my legs and walk up the steps to the department.
A not surprising metaphor for an astronomer, I suppose.
I would hate this condition, I would want to crush it and expel it, if I weren't so totally indifferent to everything.
Indifferent even to feeling indifferent.
11 DEC 81
What is it that keeps me returning to the classroom day after day?
OBLIGATIONS!
Only obligations return me to my work. If not for my students I would have no reason to get dressed and shaved in the morning and leave the house to work. I never shave on the weekends anyway - I can avoid the mirror. I don't have to see the barren surface of a face pretending to be a man.
I do not wash on the weekends either. The winter cold and the grey skies conceal my poor hygiene, or at least I like to think they do. My nails grow long - I should clip them, but I cannot summon energy enough to hunt for the clippers and do the job.
Sometimes Virginia comments about my appearance. Gently, in her way, but I cannot bring myself to shave for her. Another of my countless failures.
Although my crimes are so much greater than poor hygiene...