I am at the stage of pandemic isolation where there isn't much left for me to re-watch on TV that brings comfort -- or, at least, I can't do it without diminishing returns. "Parks & Rec" is great, but you can only go to that well so many times.
I've been allowing myself some socially distanced socialization lately -- mostly, standing out in front of the coffee shop with a small group of men (it's usually all men, most of them a bit older than I am) -- and chatting for a few minutes. Is it distanced enough? I don't know. I'm terrified it's not. But I've also been going stir-crazy in isolation, so I've decided I will allow myself that little bit. If the crowd gets too large, I leave.
I hope I don't regret it.
I hope my family doesn't regret it.
There isn't a lot bringing me joy these days. The other morning, walking my daily two miles in the rain, I felt a sense of well-being I haven't felt in awhile. But it passed. Most days I'm stuck on "dread" and "despair" as my dominant emotions. All I can do is the bit of work that I have, and try not to let my son see what I'm feeling, lest I discourage him. School seems to be going well for the most part. There is that, at least. I wonder if he is learning anything that will help him survive the terrible times I suspect are coming.
A few years back, I read that depressed people are actually ... just more realistic than optimists. I am feeling very realistic lately.
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