A brief history of mental health over the last 20 years.
In the week or so since most of the US has locked down to slow the spread of Coronavirus, I’ve repeatedly joked to my friends and family that last year, when I was living alone and far away from them while on research, prepared me for the experience of lockdown. During that year, I lived in isolation, hardly went out except to go to my libraries, mostly ate shelf-stable food because I often didn’t have access to a kitchen, and communicated with everyone in my life via video chat. It was painfully lonely, and I don’t mind saying that it launched a deep depression that piled on top of my already untreated postpartum depression. But the Coronavirus lockdown has felt different, even though so many aspects of the experience are the same. And I think that difference is the fact that everyone in my life is experiencing this same isolation simultaneously – almost everyone I’m in regular contact with is either in New York or California, both of which are in full lockdown currently. As a result, that last piece, the communication via video chat, is something we are all willing to do. Last year, I had to constantly try to catch the people in my life at convenient moments, essentially taking them out of their own lives. But now, we all have the same daily struggles and schedules, and those aligned circumstances are making us all more willing to connect.Read More
Lately I’ve been telling myself that if I could just set aside a big chunk of time – I always arbitrarily think of it as 4 hours – I would be able to focus and get over the hurdle of the chapter I’m trying to write. Read More
A running list of things/people that have been sustaining me for the past year, in no particular order: Read More
It’s hard not to mock the classic “hang in there, baby” sign, or it’s recent equivalents in rose gold calligraphy. It’s so vapidly upbeat, oblivious to the complicated obstacles that stand in the way of happiness or success, as if finding fulfillment is a matter of telling yourself to do it. And yet, here I am, scrolling Pinterest for the perfect computer wallpaper that says “create”.
Over the past 10 years, I’ve watched myself shift modes of self expression, from artistic and metaphorical to literary and literal. Am I less creative than I used to be, or do I just not have any patience for obfuscation?
I’ve recently fallen down a rabbit hole of curly hair pinterest.
Hey baby, what’s your sign?