This was my home for 13 years.
I’m not sure how I feel…-
So, I’m fairly certain that I’ve been in some form of low level depression for the last year.
I don’t know if that’s really a thing. I haven’t looked at a DSM in about ten years.
But if it’s not a thing. It should be. Like a pandemic thing.
I have been in a low level pandemic depression.
I’m fairly certain many of us have. Most of us.
I think probably some fields are experiencing it worse than others. But also maybe don’t know they are. We are. Because work is such high level chaos just all of the time. And by the time you get home you’re exhausted. And you’re spending the weekends just catching up on at home stuff. And maybe distracting yourself with mountains. And there’s just no time to process it all. Which is good. Because if you did. You’d realize. Fuck. This is what depression feels like.
So, obviously, in the midst of extreme work chaos. Unrelenting hours. Massive societal shifts. Low level pandemic depression.
That’s when you want to make a major life move…
I moved out of my home of 13 years.
And into an apartment.
And I’m wavering back and forth between excitement over a new way of living. Being so close to all the things I love to do. And just spiraling down into real life major depression.
Because I left my babies. My 13 year old Lobo. And Gracie Mae. And Pissy Pants Punky. And Stinky Butt Pierre. And Fatty Butt Alex. And my home of 13 years. In the hands of my children.
And I moved into this tiny little apartment. With a three point line on the floor. And a window facing traffic. Like, constant traffic.
And here I am.
And last night no one asked me to go outside. And back inside. And back outside again.
No one yelled at me when it was time for dinner.
No one insisted on curling up in my lap and drooling on me.
No one woke me up this morning demanding snacks.
Or to go outside. And back inside. And back outside again.
So I’m just sitting here. Drinking my coffee. And trying to figure out my life’s purpose.
I do have to go to Target. Because I basically abandoned everything in my home. My former home. For Future Daughter In Law to deal with. And I’m scared. Because I don’t really ever go to Target. But I’ve heard stories. I know what happens in those places. I don’t have the bank account for things like that.
But after Target. Then what.
I could go run a mountain.
They’re all about ten minutes away now. I can do that whenever I want now.
I could wander around town gathering menus. Because delivery is absolutely one of the major reasons why I was excited to move in the first place.
You can’t get delivery in the middle of nowhere.
You don’t hear sirens and traffic and conversations at all hours of the night in the middle of nowhere.
But you damn sure can’t get delivery.
And I could look for an outdoor reading spot. With a tree. And grass. Because I left my massive deck and yard just in time for Spring. When outdoor reading should be a daily practice.
Or I could just wander the halls of the school. I mean building. Trying to meet all of my neighbors. Some of them have dogs. And maybe they’d let me take them outside. And back inside. And back out again.
But I’m in the gymnasium. And we’re cut off from the rest of the building. And I don’t know if I need a pass. Or special permission from the principal. To wander the other halls.
Whatever I do. I just can’t sit here in this apartment all day. Because that is exactly the kind of low level pandemic depression introvert shit that will consume me.
And it’s entirely alluring. For someone like me.
So I’m gonna finish my coffee. And take a shower. And put on real life big girl clothes. And leave my apartment.
And I’m gonna start with Target. Which…
Just one of y’all please check on me. At some point today. And make sure I’m not just wandering through the Target collecting shopping carts. Filled with diffusers and throw pillows.