I have certainly had my “bouts of listless depression”, especially in the last twelve months. I just can’t seem to shake this mood, or discover its fundamental source. But, then I did
I am listless when I am list less.
I will admit it, I have been a list maker all my life. Practically everything must be written down before it can be officially accomplished. Somethings do happen on the spur of the moment. Things like the perfect title for a post here suddenly pops into my mind. But for the most part, lists are my lifeblood.
When I was in the corporate world, that is before PCs, I wrote my weekly lists on 3×5 index cards. I kept that six-inch high pile of cards that I had generated over the years because I just couldn’t throw them away. Eventually, I decided to ceremoniously burn them in my shop stove. That gave them the proper goodbye.
For the last 30 years, my lists have resided on my calendar app in my Mac. I can go back at least ten years now to see what I did on the day this post was made. You could say I am addicted to lists, but I kinda think I found the perfect organizer of life.
When I decided to go on my recent 6,000-mile trek across the South and Southwest I decided I would jump out of my comfort zone and forego lists. I wanted to make that month long journey epic. Instead, being list less I almost doomed it to failure. Without lists, I tended to ramble aimlessly through each day. Those list less days were a “lesson-learned” about my dependence on lists.
I finally learned my lesson, that without lists I am listless. To make a purpose for each day, I need a list of what I want to accomplish, and maybe more importantly, to be able to cross it off as completed at the end of each day.
My listlessness has subsided considerable since this revelation, and I am definitely happy about that.