Shit, it is depression…

The Tenderloin

…and it has been for a long time.

Walking to the grocery store this morning up Hyde Street, and I glanced up at the distinct San Francisco architecture, bay windows and whatnot and crossing Post, looked West towards Polk Street and I had this realization: shit, none of this means anything to me right now. I stopped on the corner and thought about everything I knew of this city, places, people, memories, experiences, feel and I couldn’t come up with a single thing I would want to do today. It was sunny, after a day of rain keeping me housebound (that, and Santa-con) and all I wanted was to get my groceries and go home.

This is how I spent the last two years in Chicago, before arriving here.

I called my partner and we spoke of what it’s been like and I talked about how I felt needy, and how I thought I’d been bothering friends too much, fueled by a depression I hadn’t yet recognized. She told me I wasn’t being that way, the depression was real and she tried her best to normalize. She also explained how I had been so used to controlling my environments but when the pandemic hit this had been thrown out of wack and I hadn’t fully recovered. She was right about all of this, of course. I explained how my relationship with substances had been a bit more excessive than I would like, about the sadness I felt and how I could get overwhelmed.

So what now?

I don’t know, but at least I have an understanding of the problem, and a desire to not be a burden to anyone.

I guess I’ll start there, right after I delete Twitter off my browser.



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