I can’t do anything right, I don’t have any talents worth more than a crushed Cheerio, and my future is about as bland as that weird shit they eat in The Matrix.
Except, there’s no Girl In The Red Dress.
Or even a salt shaker.
But here’s the thing:
I didn’t always feel that way; I remember feeling better about myself.
I know that talent doesn’t go away over night, skills and competence don’t disappear in a week, and the prospects I had last week aren’t gone. Fat doesn’t accumulate over night, and strength doesn’t go away after a little while of sitting around eating ice cream playing Plague Inc.
It is that memory, that realization, that lets me shake off the cobwebs. I sit back and realize that, “Hey, we don’t feel great, but our feelings right now aren’t actually because we’re a horrible excuse for a squirrel, but just some weird chemical funk. We’re still pretty cool, because we remember being pretty cool not too long ago.”
Sometimes it takes a while, sometimes it doesn’t, but remembering that how I am feeling isn’t necessarily tied to who I am and what I am capable of, even if it makes me doubt those things, is what helps me stay me.