I’ve been having more than my fair share of anxiety and depression lately and it’s been wearing me down considerably. As my wife and best friend has suggested…
It’s been too hard for too long.
That seems about right.
Looking back on the last year (and then the last 3 years since moving out to SF) it hasn’t been peaches and cream… it’s been a struggle to find a place here.
And by “place” I mean that in every sense of the word, from a physical spot to live (we’ve moved 5 times already in 3 years!) to my so-called career to finding a spiritual family to plug into as well as finding new friends. All of these things have been in flux, changing wildly every 6 months it seems and it’s just been a struggle since the very beginning.
And the costs have begun to pile up and pile on. They have broken me, essentially, and it’s forced me to retreat, sometimes into deep seasons of isolation (and despair). It’s forced me to consider what the essentials truly are, the irreducible minimums as I like to call them.
The conclusion that I’ve come back to time and time again is that I, like most men and women, cannot do what we want to do… we do what we must. And in this way, we live our own version(s) of quiet desperation.
It’s time to come out of this dark place, though. I’m more than ready… but I’m not always willing. That’s the insidious nature of depression… it somehow convinces you that the isolation is not only a good thing… it’s necessary and that I may even like it if I just gave it more of a chance.