Almost a year into this mess

I live in a beautiful place that affords me the freedom of long walks in nature without having to wear a mask. Even though I have lost income because of the pandemic, I’ve been able to live off of savings and, for the moment, I don’t have to worry about losing my housing. I was able to transition my client work online after working through some challenges, and I can do the work I love from home. I’ve been able to make use of all this time to paint, to create, and to do my inner work. I have friends who support me and I’ve been so dang lucky to connect with people who love my art.

AND

I am deeply lonely. My depression is heavier on some days than others, but even on the good days I am struggling. This leads to a fixation on fixing and I end up making it worse by problematizing myself, as if I could feel joy again if I were a more enlightened, awakened person. I feel lost. I have no idea when it will end. I feel as if I will be disconnected from any sense of family or intimate connection for the rest of my life. I am tired of having to occupy myself, of finding another book, another show, another project to keep me going when I just want to sleep until it’s all fucking over. Whenever that will be.

Both are true. My gratitude practice feels too flimsy to hold all of this at once.