Doomsday in December?
I’m run down and sick, so I’m posting something positive every day this week until I lift my spirits. There is a reason I’m depressed. It’s more than having major and persistent depression disorder . I’ve had a surprisingly cruddy year. I have to admit that I’m frustrated because my coping strategies are failing me. This is the sort of year that could only happen to a protagonist in a dark comedy. I’ve already written before how I was severely sick for seven months before the pandemic began. This feels like slow death sometimes. I’m so isolated from others, I’m forgetting how to be human. Here’s my calendar since May. I think it’s a bit much: May: I began running to lose weight and get in shape, but tore my right meniscus in my knee. I know its a torn meniscus, but insurance demands I do physical therapy first. Thus ends my newfound hobby, as well as my summer of longboarding before it began. June: Babying my...
