As a friend points out to me, I’m an artist. What does that mean? That means I don’t only get the boons of being an artist but the drawbacks, too. Right now feels like a drawback period. Um, actively isolating. Got some texts from people, people I thoroughly enjoy, still unanswered. Disinterest in just about everything, including my vices. Sleep is long yet restless. Sedentary? You bet. Trouble writing blog posts, that too. I guess the math adds up, or subtracts down as the case may be.

Not long ago, I recall going through this phase during work. People for the most part gave me my space which was appreciated. A particular fellow there who I had enormous respect for invited me to a picnic or beach party or something. And I tried to explain it as concisely as I could. Emotions are contagious. With me moping around with the equivalent of emotional flu, I have no want to force myself onto others. It’s bad enough coming into work and knowing, knowing that my mood is adversely felt by others. Worse is showing up to an event of joviality, only to feel alien while alienating.

Any good friend, therapist worth their salt, heck, even me would tell anyone and everyone having these feelings to defy them. Minimize isolating. Force yourself through chores like hygiene and exercise. Don’t be too hard on yourself. And, you know, stripped of all mood, it’s prolly the best advice one can give. Not avoid but embrace the depression, at the same time, defy it. If fo no other reason than to diminish the effects, shorten the duration, minimize the damage.

I’m not wanting to make a big deal of it. Not at all. You know how you hunker down under a warm blanket during a heavy rain storm, I’m trying to do just that, hunker down. Blanket optional.