Hello My Imaginary Friends,
It’s been a hard few months.
Returning to work after Keladry was born saw me fall into depression. It was a combination of things and it was hard. The hardest part being that I felt like I’m lucky to have a wonderful wife that worked from home and could take care of our daughter, I had a good job, wonderful friends, and I had a great small business. I felt ungrateful and weak for being depressed.
I did what I thought was the right thing and threw myself headfirst into being the best at everything I was doing. Trying to distract myself and prove that I deserved my life. It worked but at a cost. I ran myself ragged and burned out a year and a half later.
I realized that I was going to experience the same thing with Adrien. I could feel it when I wrote about going back to work.
Then there was a Pandemic (sounds like a bad kids book or punk band). I expected working from home would be a little stressful but I didn’t expect it to be as stressful as going back to work. I can’t believe how similar I’m feeling about work as I did. (Only 19-24 more years before retirement.)
Again here I am feeling guilty for being depressed and anxious. I know I have it good. I can work from home and have a good job, great coworkers, I get to hang out with my kids and wife, I try to stay in contact with my friends (sorry), my small business is small enough that we can scale down without risking shutting down, and I have spent the past six years making this house as comfortable as humanly possible (introvert life!).
Yet I still get mini-panic attacks before leaving the house to go shopping. I mourn the probable loss of my daughter’s first year of kindergarten, I miss the comforts of in-person game night, conventions, going to the movies, and I’m terrified for my family and friends.
Yesterday I posted this:
The hardest part of depression (other than feeling utterly powerless) is the part before I realize what’s going on. Naming the feelings, somehow, lets me feel them and process them. I’m still going to have a rough year but I guess that’s kind of a world-wide problem right now.
Now why am I writing this? It’s not for sympathy or presents, it’s simply to let you know what I’m going through and that it’s okay.
If you’re going through something similar and things start seeming completely hopeless, please reach out to someone to talk (or text). You’re not a burden and it’s okay to not be okay.
Be well and wash your hands,