Shit, it is depression…

…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.

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

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.

-Drake