Anhedonic babies grow up. I go to sleep thinking and I wake up thinking and all day thoughts drop and swirl through my mind like snowflakes, the only difference, some of them are the same over and over. When I woke up this morning the anhedonic children were in my mind. I started to think, to remember, to link.
Do you ever recall being scared by something just because you couldn’t clearly define what it was-some shadow in the dark-some errie noise? Then there are the more subtle forms of alert, confusion, worry, bewilderment, anxiety… all because you are thrown off base, can’t quite get a grasp on what is happening, what you’re seeing, what you’re hearing-the ‘why’ of the moment. For me it’s like this all day long every day every month every year decade after decade. Everyone around me is acting and reacting in ways I don’t understand, don’t have access to, can only imitate-and I do imitate quite well, well enough to fool everyone except my self. To keep from being ‘found out’, I keep all but a few people at a distance.

Christmas doesn’t really mean anything to me except candy canes and bright lights and endless demands on my very limited energy to make things nice for someone else. I watch this thing called joy, merriment, good will toward all and I have no idea what’s going on. Easter doesn’t really mean any thing to me except jellybeans and Easter bunnies. I’ve always liked the jellybeans, but that bunny, he’s always looked rather ridiculous. I don’t understand why people celebrate birthdays or anniversaries. I do not understand what party in general is about or social or Memorial or funeral and the list goes on. I don’t know why anyone gets excited when a baby is born or would want to have anything in particular to do with one.
The thing that makes this anhedonic state rather sticky, much more confusing, something a psychologist could have fun with for years-are all the stories I have made up and incidents and experiences to which I have attributed value to explain to myself how I got this way, why Everything is Nothing.
Tomorrow-or some time soon I will say more-in this 12 part essay on my personal anhedonic experience.

• Making up stories…
• in vivo adrenalin shootups!…
• No dreams, goals, aspirations… 
• how nothing becomes nothing good…
• “I don’t care”
• the value of anger… 
• one saving grace…
• the hug, the touch, other confusing things… 
• furfaced angels for anhedonia…
• Bipolar connection?…
• sex or not…
• creating reasons to live…
• and other STUFF.