non-specific apathy

From time to time, I find that I am struck with what I’ve termed “non-specific apathy”, which is exactly what it sounds like: a general unexplained feeling of non-feeling.

I suppose it’s kind of close to a melancholy sort of feeling, but it’s not quite as sad. This non-specific apathy is, however, bad for motivation because if you’re feeling apathetic, nothing really matters, right?

I don’t think it happens to me often, but, apparently, when it does strike, it can be quite obvious to others.

Ok, so this is kind of entering into new territory because I don’t tend to write overly personal things on this blog, but, like I always say, this is my blog and I’ll write what I want.

Over the years, I’ve come to learn that I’m supposedly quite good at concealing my stress and worry about a lot of things. I cannot tell you how many people have told me, throughout high school, uni and work, that I never (or rarely) seem to be stressed out, and/or that I seem to be a very happy/enthusiastic person.

The latter observation is actually quite accurate because I do have a tendency of approaching new tasks/challenges with enthusiasm and alacrity. The former observation is possibly also reasonably accurate, but I’m not sure to what extent it’s a conscious/subconscious effort to appear cool, calm and collected.

I suppose, then, that when I stray from this composed visage, it might, for those who know me well enough, be obvious enough.

(Side note: If you’ve happened to notice that, in these last few months – specifically, since the start of this year – I’m using a lot more commas in my writing, it’s almost certainly because I’ve been reading Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield; and the bookish amongst us all know that Dickens is renowned for his long sentences, which, of course, cannot be constructed without a healthy sprinkling of commas and other punctuation marks.)

However, part of me does wonder if, on some level, I don’t actually try to conceal this apathy at all, and would actually prefer that it was noticed. But, I mean, if it’s a general apathy, why would I care who knows and who doesn’t? Sometimes I wonder if it’s a kind of quiet cry of distress, or maybe a silent call for help. Maybe it’s some weird self-preservation strategy for when I’m feeling emotionally overloaded. Yeah, that sounds plausible… I’ll go with that.