I’ve done nothing all day. To many people, doing nothing all day is some sort of achievement. To me, however, doing nothing all day does nothing but fuel my demons and raise their normal grumblings to a deafening scream. Doing nothing all day drags me back down to that awful place I’ve been trying to escape my whole life.
Yesterday I climbed Mount Snowdon with a friend. It’s the second tallest peak in the UK, and it’s a pretty good hike. We drove up on Sunday night and arrived in the foothills around 11:00PM, hastily pitching a tent in a reasonably secluded place on the path leading to the mountain. Wild camping is illegal in England and Wales, as all land is owned, and in order to camp you need permission from the land owner. We figured that what the land owner didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and as long as we left no trace, where’s the harm?
That night brought little sleep. The winds were horrendous, and the small wall we’d pitched behind did practically nothing to break the wind. The skies bled all night, lashing water down so hard that the tent rang out with the sound of television tuned to a dead channel. It was certainly warm enough, but by about 5:30 the water had found its way in and the floor was starting to get soaked.
We quickly deconstructed the tent (which wouldn’t fit back into its bag, but to be honest is only really fit for the bin now anyway), and headed back to the carpark to decant what we didn’t need into the boot, and then set off.
The hike up the mountain was great – the views were less spectacular than they could have been, as the clouds had blown in, and the upper portion of the climb became a trek through mist and fog, while battling the winds which threatened unconvincingly to blow us off the ridges to our deaths. We headed off the track near the summit in order to bag a geocache, and eventually reached the top… where once again the rains began.
The hike back down was a killer. Raging wind, rain which felt like needles in our faces, and seemingly no escape from the relentless cloud cover which was omnipresent. When we finally made it back to the car we were quite ready for a nice hot shower, but there was still a 3 and a half hour journey ahead of us. Still, when I got home, I felt fantastic. It was genuinely the best 24 hours I’ve had in a long time.
So you see, some people might say “don’t beat yourself up over doing nothing today – just look what you did yesterday!”, but when has that ever worked? I look at what I did yesterday at it just makes the gulf between yesterday’s mountain climb and today’s NOTHING AT ALL seem unimaginably vast. I am worthless and my demons won’t stop reminding me.
The only way to fix this is to do something, but my lack of motivation prevents this.
Save me, please.