We all have demons. Fuzzy little psycopaths residing in our individual psyches, revealing themselves at the most inopportune times. A charity cocktail party celebrating a new medical breakthrough. A dinner with your future in-laws. A job interview for a position at a busy port. And the situation has only gotten worse since the beginning of the pandemic. It’s not an exaggeration to say that your demons have taken the brunt of unfortunate policy decisions.
In a lockdown, you could order delivery or walk the dog. What could they do with you sitting at home, binging mediocre TV and eating mediocre food? Not much, as it turns out. They couldn’t even exercise. So they languished within you, living a sedentary life, based around junk food and social media. Inertia set it, then entropy. You, of all people, began to feel sorry for your demons.
Why is that? Because your demons fuel your passions. They give you purpose and reason to be. They break down politics and culture in a way no talking head ever could. They don’t do it with words. They do it with actions. Or they once did, in a better time when your demons could get fresh air with the rest of us.
You can’t wait for your demons to get motivated and take control. Two years of mental rot has rendered them useless, shells of their former selves. This isn’t like a horseshoe crab, where a shell is a good thing, a house thing. It’s something far more troubling.
It’s time to exercise them. Don’t just take them to the gym with you – get them their own membership. You getting your steps in every day won’t do the trick. But with a little luck and a lot of reps on the elliptical machine, your demons might just return to fight another day.
The truth is they're getting out one way or another. Either you pick the time or they do. I know which I'd prefer.
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