Surfacing
I've been pretty murderously depressed since November. Leaving work was the trigger, then President Bozo happened, then the holidays. In December I broke up with FaceBook; I almost never look at it now. Too much time-wasting noise for me there.
It feels terribly irresponsible to be out of touch because the threats of loose cannon politics that I don't agree with are very real, but my first attempt at trying to engage online almost did me in. I cried nearly every day. Armed with the justification that I do this to save my own sanity I resolved to spend my precious life energy on things close to home instead. I re-read 'A People's History of the United States'. We've started hosting a weekly game night, which sometimes brings herds of gleeful shrieking nieces and nephews with their parents and sometimes just a couple of friends show up. I go for walks every day. I drink too much.
Even more than I miss the spark of creative vitality is the persistence of hopelessness. So great is this boring malaise that I can't even really muster any fear or surprise or anything about it. Intellectually I understand that this ought to set off a warning klaxon for my well-being but I can't be bothered to even care about it.
Just this week I started listening to the news on the radio again. There are moments when a reckless lightheartedness about the ridiculousness of it all comes over me and everything seems really funny all of the sudden. In these moments I can see a way through to better days. I'm on the upswing I think. I hope.
It feels terribly irresponsible to be out of touch because the threats of loose cannon politics that I don't agree with are very real, but my first attempt at trying to engage online almost did me in. I cried nearly every day. Armed with the justification that I do this to save my own sanity I resolved to spend my precious life energy on things close to home instead. I re-read 'A People's History of the United States'. We've started hosting a weekly game night, which sometimes brings herds of gleeful shrieking nieces and nephews with their parents and sometimes just a couple of friends show up. I go for walks every day. I drink too much.
Even more than I miss the spark of creative vitality is the persistence of hopelessness. So great is this boring malaise that I can't even really muster any fear or surprise or anything about it. Intellectually I understand that this ought to set off a warning klaxon for my well-being but I can't be bothered to even care about it.
Just this week I started listening to the news on the radio again. There are moments when a reckless lightheartedness about the ridiculousness of it all comes over me and everything seems really funny all of the sudden. In these moments I can see a way through to better days. I'm on the upswing I think. I hope.