Equidistant depression

I cannot advise that this one will make sense.

In this week's episode i am fighting being sick...

with a side order of depression...

Sick enough to take several days off work--because of really being sick,

which, in an of itself, sucks. I hate wasting time off

in actually being sick, much less several days involving a tough

to beat chest cold, night fevers and weakness.

There does seem to be truth in that the older you get the harder

standard type sickness hits you.

Years ago, I wouldn't have dropped my rucksack for this level of being sick.

I would have humped right through it.

Now everything stops.

Does one become depressed because one is sick?

Or is one sick because one is depressed?

The singular advantage of sickness is the fevered state.

A fever can allow freedom to thoughts not normally available in our usual states of mind.

One night this past week, suffering a fever and unable to sleep, it came to me that 

when i become depressed, as i am, there may be a logical reasoning behind the depression:

The equidistance of a series of problems from possible solutions.

No matter how i crunch the possible solutions to some problems

 in my tiny brain there are often

zero solutions available as a result of the distance of the problem from

my toolbox of possible solutions. 

The problem simply cannot be touched to be worked upon.

The problem remains consistently out of reach. 

Looming on the horizon.

A visual representation, as to how an equidistant problem affects me mentally

 would be in the following manner:

If all the planets in our solar system were equidistant from Earth

Saturn would appear to us in the sky in this manner:

Huge, looming, and consistently present but terminally out of reach

while standing on the surface of the earth.

Current problems are radiating, rotating about me

 equidistant in time.

Both impossible to ignore and impossible at my point in time and space,

to solve.

Fuck.

The one thing for sure i will say an electronic reading device has done for me is,

I am devouring books again.

The latest is, 

Big, Dead Place.

the non-fiction story of a garbage man at the McMurdo Station in Antarctica.

Both an excellent read and unique story especially if you are into

the ice station, edge of the world thing as I am. 

Soon to be followed in consumption by the Howard Hughes favorite:

Ice Station Zebra, 

already downloaded onto the machine.

"Once a week I like to slip into a deep existential depression

where i loose all sense of oneness and self worth."

Bo Burham