Boredom and Metaphor

Since weaning myself off medication about three weeks ago I've noticed some amazing changes.

Changes that I seem to observe from the side, separated from, not really feeling but only observing with what is semi-detached interest.

First, the odd jolts of electricity that flowed from my shoulders to the tips of my fingers.

The weird flashes of light my eyes produced when moved rapidly back and forth.

Then, the ability to conjure metaphors. I didn't realize I wasn't thinking in metaphors until I started thinking in them again. I was lying in bed about a week and a half ago. It was five am. The bedside lamp was on and a thunderstorm was blowing rain through the window and onto my naked body. I thought, I feel like I am my mother at my sister's funeral. The thought made little sense, but it was my thought; my brain had put these images together in abstraction and applied them to my current state.

Odd, I thought to myself. That's a metaphor. Haven't thought of one of those in a while.

Then, a few days later, I felt bored.

Boredom is one of those feelings, when you are depressed, that you think you feel all the time. But you don't. Then, when you finally do feel bored, it's a shocking feeling.

This summer I've done lots of boring things. But I never felt bored doing them.

Boredom is a productive feeling--it compels you to do something to change your current state. I actually felt bored last week. It was an amazing and welcome feeling.