Update on Things: If you ask me how I am...I'm still here
|Deconstructed Corvid 3 - in progress|
Having circumnavigated depression all my life (there's something to be said for vitamin D in this regard, and you're not getting enough) it's not a new feeling, and it's frankly frustrating that I'm still here. Or here again, however you want to do the math. I suck at math.
It's interesting to watch other people react. One friend is using the Kübler-Ross Grief Cycle to identify stages of isolation frustration. Isolation Frustration - that song needs to be written. People are reconnecting with music from their formative years. Trying new recipes, maybe reconnecting there, too, with old family favorites. Planning the future with no firm parameters.
It's clear to me that many people have never experienced this degree of separation before. I've witnessed a couple meltdowns on social media, and I tell them it'll be okay like you tell a person who thinks they're drowning to lie back and stop flailing - just float on. They sometimes don't want to hear it. Other people's meltdowns can be draining, even if I don't interact.
I think about the people who've known me in my life who advised me to chill out. I must have been so frustrating. I showed so much potential, and yet...
I'm still like that, I assure you. I manage to keep the flailing on the inside most days. Once again, I watch everyone else and wonder what's wrong with me. The world is formulating a New Normal, and I'm still the same as I've always been. Still observing from a distance - still outside. I'm still here.
Depression assessments used to ask if you've stopped doing things you usually love, if you're turning away opportunities to meet friends. Right now, that's everybody. I got comfortable being left outside the circle; as a friend with similar tastes said, I'm living my best life. But still there's a rankling, a subtle vibration of dissatisfaction.
We need other humans to mirror what we see in ourselves - to validate our self-expectations, tell us we've put our public faces on right. I can't do that for you. My set of assessments is built on poetry and honest intentions. I don't care what your public face looks like. I may ask if you haven't been cutting fingernails or shaving regularly - they may be signs you aren't taking care of your true self, public face be damned.
Don't forget to listen. If you don't listen, will you know when someone is slipping?
If you've never been left to your own devices, take this opportunity to look for your heart. Find the part that's just you, not the collective. Dig deep, get ready to fight - no, make friends with your demons. Some of it will be ugly, but you will get through. Don't expect to be joyous every minute. It's okay.
If this is not new for you - if you prefer to be alone - you may still find internal dissonance. Take this opportunity to finish what you've started with fewer interruptions. That's my advice to myself, and because I like you I'm sharing it. Obviously what's good for me is good for you. Right?
We're still here. Let's do this.
Santa Cruz - Erin McKeown
My pal Aspen Blue and I have entangled stomachs. She's on the other side of the globe, so our meals and humours overlap awkwardly. What I eat sustains her through stressful periods, and her coffee-drinking keeps me up all night. We share a love of good vodka and that may leak into our writing. Blue told me to listen to Erin McKeown and I'm glad she did.
Blue's brilliant and feels too much. Check out her work on medium:
Aspen Blue - Poems on Medium
|I can't wait to put on these puppies and hit the highway again.|
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