According to the potato scale, I’ve been some undercooked potato chunks in a stew. A little raw. I told my therapist that I’m in the “everything feels difficult” space of depression. It’s been a few weeks since my last post, and I’m struggling to develop any ideas. I’m at a loss.

Maybe I’ll let my subconscious work on that problem while I wander off. The door at my local coffee shop is malfunctioning; the tension on the hinge has reversed, so instead of swinging shut, it flies open at the slightest pressure and then must be pushed closed. There is a sign on the door that instructs patrons to “please push door closed after entering.” I’ve been sitting here, watching person after person approach the door, read the sign, and walk inside. About a third of people push the door closed without much effort, leaving it cracked. The other two thirds close the door with extreme care, even placing both palms on it and leaning in until it is firmly shut. I just think it’s interesting to notice these things. One person in the span of two hours has forgotten to close the door or maybe didn’t read the sign. Cold air rushed in. People are funny creatures. Why do we do what we do? Why do we follow rules? Rules are funny constructs.

My rule is that lots of rules are good. I was chatting with my aunt the other day, and somehow, the topic of the Outback Steakhouse slogan, “No rules. Just right,” came up. My personal philosophy is “Just rules. Just right.” But there are times when that’s not healthy. It can be a stifling way to live. Values are a kind of rule, and that’s important. But sometimes they get twisted. OCD rules hijack values, preying on your worst fears. What if I forget to close the front door and the cats get out and are lost forever? That would violate my values of responsibility and care for loved ones. I’d better go check the door and maybe lock the deadbolt just in case. What if my car’s broken sunshade mirror focuses the light and starts a fire? I’d better check and make sure it’s folded closed. I’d better do this. I’d better do that. What if, what if, what if? It’s exhausting, but it feels impossible to abandon. Uncertainty is unbearable mental chaos, but “certainty” is an illusion. I’ll never be certain of anything (except death and taxes, I guess).