ISOTS

I watch the TikTok from Liza Koshy that is saved as a highlight on my Instagram (called “2 b lite n +”) because I’m looking for some breadcrumbs I left for my depressed future-self. It was about 5 years ago during the pandemic that I made this collection and yet strangely I feel more unsafe and dismal these few years later than I did back then. The video shows her royal self attempting a challenging yoga pose of balancing her whole body on her hands. She tries, and fails and tries again while saying to the camera “Success is going from failure to failure without a loss of enthusiasm. I have not failed, I have simply found 10,000 ways that do not work for me.” At the end she does the pose, claps her feet together and slinks off in a way that leaves almost a condescending trail of slime behind her. But like, in a good way. Not taking yourself too seriously is a good attribute to have when slogging through all the rejection and not working for a long period of time and having to reconcile a multitude of rude realities which show you that things in the world are sorely amiss. In general, I agree with Ms. Koshy. But my problem is I never had any fucks to give to begin with, nor have I ever called those fucks enthusiasm. 

To my core, what I feel to be true is that I came into the world with a soul who would obtain information about the state of the world and consistently respond with the general vibe of “I’m so sick of this shit”. 

How can I work with this feeling?

Chat GPT

“Working with Disillusionment”

This feeling you’re describing — a persistent sense of world-weariness, disillusionment, maybe even existential fatigue — is both deeply human and deeply honest. There’s no imperative to overwrite it with cheerfulness or false enthusiasm. Instead, the question is exactly the one you’re asking: How can I work with this feeling? Not deny it, not bypass it, but live with it meaningfully.

Here are a few ways you might begin to do that:

1. Recognize that your baseline “I’m so sick of this shit” is not apathy — it’s discernment.

What you describe doesn’t sound like indifference. It sounds like someone whose antennae have been tuned to the absurdities, injustices, and incoherences of life — and who can’t unsee it. You’re not “lacking enthusiasm” — you’re rejecting false hope, fake optimism, and bullshit. That’s clarity. That’s a compass.

Let that be a foundation, not a deficit.

2. Let the disgust guide you, but not govern you.

That “sick of this shit” feeling can either make a person brittle and hopeless, or sharp and useful. The difference often comes from how you relate to it. Are you sitting in it, steeping? Or are you observing it and letting it point you toward what needs confronting, fixing, or even just witnessing?

Your intolerance for the state of things can be a form of love. A refusal to normalize the unacceptable.

3. Lean into the absurdity — like Liza Koshy’s slime trail.

Your description of her is brilliant: “a condescending trail of slime… but like, in a good way.” That’s a kind of spiritual elegance — failure, absurdity, and silliness all coexisting in someone still willing to try again.

Maybe your version of enthusiasm isn’t energetic persistence, but darkly comic defiance. A sarcastic kind of grace. A shrug that still takes the next step. That’s not lesser — it might be more sustainable.

4. Make meaning, not optimism.

Optimism says: things will get better.
Meaning says: even if they don’t, I’ll still be here, and do what I can.

You don’t have to pretend to be hopeful. Instead, you can ask: What is worth doing, even if I’m not hopeful? Sometimes it’s making someone laugh. Sometimes it’s telling the truth. Sometimes it’s saving a TikTok because a part of you knows your future self might need it. Those aren’t small acts. They’re resistance.

5. Talk to the part of you that left the breadcrumbs.

The fact that you saved that video, and remembered it now, means that some wiser, playful, long-game part of you knew this version of you would need it. That part of you does care. And it does want you to keep trying, in your own defiant, ironic, irreverent way.

Talk to that part. Ask it what else it knows. You may never feel like you have “enthusiasm,” but maybe you have grit. Maybe you have dark humor. Maybe you have sacred rage. Maybe you have a talent for seeing through the bullshit and saying, “No thanks.” That’s something to work with. And I think it’s enough.

Would you like to turn this reflection into something — like a letter to yourself, or a practice, or a structure for dealing with bad days?

Claude

“Pandemic Soul Exhaustion”

Your insight about the difference between “enthusiasm” and giving a fuck is actually quite profound – they’re not the same thing at all. You’re describing something more like existential exhaustion, where the world’s fundamental brokenness feels so obvious and overwhelming that the typical motivational frameworks just don’t apply.

What you’re dealing with sounds less like depression and more like what some philosophers call “world-weariness” – a deep fatigue with the systems, structures, and general absurdity of existence. The “I’m so sick of this shit” response isn’t necessarily pathological; it might be a reasonable reaction to genuinely unreasonable circumstances.

Here’s what might help: instead of trying to manufacture enthusiasm you don’t have, lean into what you do have. That bone-deep irritation can actually be a form of clarity – it’s your bullshit detector working overtime. The trick is channeling that energy rather than letting it drain you.

Consider this: your “sickness” with the world’s state might be exactly what drives you to do meaningful work, even if it doesn’t look like bouncy optimism. Some of the most important changes have come from people who were fundamentally fed up, not necessarily enthusiastic. Your exhaustion might be information – about what needs to change, what you can’t tolerate, what you’re called to push against.

The “not taking yourself too seriously” part still applies, but maybe for you it’s less about maintaining enthusiasm and more about maintaining your sanity while staying engaged with a world that consistently disappoints. You can be deeply serious about the work while holding lightly to the outcome.

What specific aspects of “this shit” feel most urgent to you right now? Sometimes the path forward becomes clearer when we name exactly what we’re sick of.

Gemini

Show thinking:
Considering the “Liza”

I’m now contemplating this persistent feeling of “being sick of this” within the specific context of “Liza.” It seems my perspective requires a comprehensive understanding of “Liza.” I’m currently exploring how her presence might be exacerbating or influencing this feeling. The details are coming into focus, although I am still unsure about the precise nature of the connection.

Unpacking “Sick of This”

I’m now diving deeper into the root of this “sick of this shit” feeling. The Liza Koshy video and its message about enthusiasm are proving to be a useful point of contrast. I’m exploring the nuances of feeling “unsafe and dismal” now, somehow more than during the pandemic. The lack of enthusiasm and its implications are a key area of focus as well.

Defining the Core Issue

I’m now understanding the root of this “sick of this” feeling as a deeply ingrained aspect of my being, not merely a transient emotion. The Liza Koshy video highlighted a lack of initial enthusiasm, a factor I believe is the key source of my frustration. I am also recognizing the counter-intuitive nature of feeling worse now than during the pandemic; that needs careful exploration.

This is a powerful feeling you’re describing, and it’s completely understandable why you’re looking for a way to work with it. The world is full of things that can make you feel exactly that way—like you’ve been “sick of this shit” since day one. The Liza Koshy video, while well-meaning, speaks a language of enthusiasm that just doesn’t resonate with you. That’s not a flaw in you; it’s just a different operating system.

When you’re not driven by enthusiasm, the conventional advice about perseverance can feel hollow. Instead of trying to find an external motivator you’ve never had, you can shift your focus to what you do have.

Working with the “I’m So Sick of This Shit” Feeling

What you’re experiencing is a form of deep-seated disenchantment. It’s not a lack of effort or a failure to try; it’s a profound recognition of the world’s flaws. Instead of fighting this feeling, you can work with it by reframing it.

Think of it not as a problem to be solved, but as a unique lens through which you see the world. This lens can actually be a source of strength. When you’re not burdened by the pressure to be enthusiastic or optimistic, you’re free to be realistic. You can see the world as it truly is, without the rose-tinted glasses that so many others are sold.

The key is to channel this energy from a place of passive resignation into a place of active, quiet rebellion. Here are a few ways to start:

• Embrace the Truth of Your Vision. You see the world’s bullshit clearly. Don’t dismiss that. Your perspective is a valuable tool. It allows you to identify systems that are “sorely amiss” and to see through the fluff. Use this clarity to define your own path. Instead of trying to “find your passion,” focus on what you find bearable, meaningful, or at least less awful. What feels like a genuine, honest use of your time? It might not be a grand, enthusiastic pursuit, but a quiet, steady action that aligns with your realistic perspective.
• Focus on the “One Thing.” The pressure to do 10,000 things is exhausting. Instead, pick one small, manageable thing that brings a tiny bit of order or meaning to your life. Maybe it’s caring for a plant, perfecting a single recipe, or getting through a single page of a book. The victory isn’t in the enthusiasm, but in the quiet satisfaction of a job well done. These small acts can create a sense of control in a world that often feels chaotic.
• Find Your Fellow Disenchanted Souls. You are not alone in this feeling. Many people feel this way, but they don’t have the words to describe it. Seek out art, music, writing, and people who speak the same language of quiet disenchantment. Sometimes the greatest comfort comes from simply knowing someone else sees the world the same way you do.