Mentally I feel like a butterfly, flitting around from flower to flower, never sticking with one for very long. Lots of flowers to pollinate, after all.
Except I’m not as graceful as a butterfly. I’m more like a moth, careening drunkenly around with no apparent destination in mind. Bouncing off one wall, hitting the ceiling, smacking over against the window, where I settle down for a minute before the stumbly mental dance begins again.
Cognitive symptoms of depression are often present, but the intensity of the illness’s effects on my concentration ebbs and flows. Lately it’s been worse, and I suspect that has at least something to do with not feeling so great physically.
I’m still managing to get some things done, but it’s all very inefficient. The frequent task switching ends up using far more mental energy than if I were able to focus for a little longer. However, if something pops into my mind I know that if I don’t attend to it right away it will be gone.
Reading has been worse lately in terms of concentration than writing, although I’m feeling pretty uninspired to write. I have the attention span to read a paragraph or two, and then I’ll flop over to something else. I mostly skim rather than read word for word. Or I read without understanding and then wonder what the point of that was.
Speaking of points, there isn’t really one to this post. More of a little pause before I go flitting off to something else.