As I continue my one eyed blogging ( I just finished "Lying", part of a serious series this week), and listen to whatever deck or front yard construction has begun up the street, I tick off the Things I Did Today That I Said I Would Do.
It's only 9.23 am and I've fed all of the animals, cleaned the cat boxes, walked the dogs, wrote a blog (see above), stood in my dining room trying to either remember what else I need to do, or the ending of Loverboy. Did she really forgive him for all of that? WTF was the 80's feeding us?
My right eye is sobbing all over me, I couldn't find my sunglasses for the dog walk (THAT'S what I was looking for when I got sidetracked by the evil Patrick Dempsey) so my eye is not so much worse but it isn't better. I suspect it'd be much better if there was not a cat seated right here, slamming her head into my hand as I try to type. I have no direct proof, but I believe she contributed to the scratched cornea.
In an effort to stave off the Fart in a Mitten state that is threatening to run my day, I am searching for things to do. I get many people will say "You had 14 months on lock down to do things, like lose weight or write, loser", to which I reply kindly "Fuck off". I openly admitted to succumbing to depression, and to be fair, I spent last summer in Google Suite classes, faculty and department meetings, scrambling to create at least three different plans for what was completely unpredictable. I then spent the entire school year until March completely online, shifting everything to the fourth scenario nobody had warned me about, and I made up on the spot. I'm tired.
I deeply admire so many people, and the way they went through this. I got off Facebook recently, but I spent a year tracking my beloved retired teacher, whose awe inspiring marriage and relentless love for one another kept them going. My friends who updated their houses, refurnished and started new businesses. Some threw themselves into remote learning with their children with such passion that I learned things by watching them. Some started grad school, some started new careers. Some blew apart toxic relationships and emerged confused and friendless, but healthier. Some are still struggling to break that one last bad habit. Some cut off Facebook entirely and I like to believe they're frabjously joyful now, singing and skipping in the real world.
I survived. I shifted into survival mode very early on and stayed the course. I created deadlines where there were none, pretended I had a schedule when there was only an empty calendar, hoped to God I could get a full remote tech class out of Hamilton on Disney Plus and flew Jazz Hands when someone turned their camera on. I felt no joy, no despair, for a year. I was in neutral in every way. I've now watched Schitt's Creek in its entirety eleven times. That's how I know I hit rock bottom with depression; I've never been here before.
Now that I'm coming out, I'm all over the place. Do not rely on anything that resembles a healthy emotional reaction to anything said or done. I like neutral, it's safe here. When I venture out, I lose control. So I'll stay here for the time being.
I have never in my life considered telling another human being that I am "Emotionally Unavailable" to them. I'm saying it now.
Doing the things does not require emotional engagement. They're just things.
Fed animals, check.
Cleaned litter boxes, check.
Picked up groceries, check.
Walked dogs, check.
Now to call a plumber, my next check.
I'm good, check.
Thanks for checking.
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