Ah jeez. I was feeling so “deep” in those early days of lockdown; ready for some unexpected meaning to appear; maybe a sharp turn off a steep cliff into transformation. I feel so far from the ability to make meaning out of anything. I don’t think I’m depressed. Well, I’m not saying I’m not depressed. I’m just saying I’m not just depressed, because let’s face it, this is pretty fucking depressing, but this is also something very different.

As with previous experiences with depression, I’ve been battling a lack of creative drive. In pre-pandemic times of depression it always felt like I no longer cared about my passions. Currently I have a deep desire to use my time in a creative way, but I can’t get myself to do it. Partly because everything feels difficult. Mostly because I can’t figure out what the fucking point is.  I cannot for the life of me figure out why I should do anything. Why should I write this blog? Am I just yelling at a wall? Yes, I am, but that never bothered me before. I was fine expressing my inner most feelings to the wall that is a blog with no followers. I mean who even blogs anymore? If I was previously writing only for me, what has changed? Has the heaviness of this pandemic taken my creative drive hostage? Has the fear of the unknown in a space we just can’t know caused me an existential paralysis? Has this depression adjacent feeling straight killed my vibes?

Here is what I have been feeling: Vigilance. Fatigue. I am ok some hours. I am ok some hours! I am wildly irritable at other hours. I am not sad all the time. I am completely heartbroken and devastated a lot of the time. Sounds like grief.

I want to name it. It’s its own beast. Pandemdepressionitis. That rolls off the tongue.

Pandemdepressionitis
/panˈdemdəˈpreSH(ə)nˈīdəs/
1) feelings of severe despondency and dejection in reference to a disease prevalent over the world.
2) maybe a sharp turn off of a steep cliff into transformation, but probably not.

I miss everything. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss playing shows. I miss the ease and joy at which I used to meander around farmers markets. I play a game with myself where I get really upset because I miss these things and then immediately shame myself for feeling saddened by my privilege. There is no winning here.

But the truth is, there is no winning in a system that has allowed a pandemic to become a politically divisive issue where people are abandoned without care. There is no winning in a system that has allowed black people to be killed without justice, in a system that has allowed women to be sexually assaulted without justice, in a system that has allowed children to be held in cages without their families. I am up against my privilege and I am up against my trauma and we are up against a system that has created both.

So I go to protests. I educate myself on being actively anti-racist. This is important work. Unlike my creative work I feel able to do this work right now. I could spend every minute of this pandemic on this work and it wouldn’t be enough. It may be the only thing I do this whole time that matters.

I walk past a stage where I used to play music. I cry. I see a post of my brother being ridiculous. I cry. My friend’s mom has covid. I cry. My roommate’s friend kills himself. I cry. My boyfriend drinks whiskey alone at night after I go to sleep. I cry. I realize I’m afraid of everything. I sing this song on the piano and he cries.

“If I was crying
In the van, with my friend
It was for freedom
From myself and from the land
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes
You came to take us
All things go, all things go
To recreate us
All things grow, all things grow
We had our mindset
All things know, all things know
You had to find it
All things go, all things go”
-Sujan Stevens (Chicago)

We’ve made a lot of mistakes.
We’ve made a lot of mistakes.
We’ve made a lot of mistakes.
We’ve made a lot of mistakes. And all things go.

We’ve made a lot of mistakes and this pandemdepressionitis has more to say than death is imminent. It wants to talk about our systems, the greed, the racism, the sexism, the abandonment. I haven’t lost my creative drive because Im depressed or I wish life would go back to normal so a I can write for the delightful experience of pursuing music in a society that doesn’t value art. I am paralyzed because I am present. And it’s devastating. I don’t know what I can say to the world that feels like enough. I don’t know how I can move forward without change. I simply can’t. We can no longer pretend to be ok in order to feel the comfort of deep mediocre unconsciousness. We owe each other more than that. We are worth more than that.

I am no longer expecting a sharp turn off a steep cliff into transformation, but maybe, just maybe, a slow road to recovery. Maybe I’ll get to see a small piece of the shift. Maybe I’ll get to see more than I could have imagined.

The fear of this unknown is really a fear that we haven’t been doing it right all along. We have to own up to that. We can only make this right through change and through love. Love of our people. Love of our women, love of our BIPOC communities, and love of our neighbors. Love of our environment. Love by owning up to our mistakes. Love by putting people above power.

I am standing in front a waterfall. The drops hit my face like rain. I place my hand under the rushing water and it’s heavy. I watch it fall and follow carved paths and cascade off of rocks. It’s so loud that it’s louder than my thoughts. Its power and its beauty can’t be explained by some meant to be moment or a hard earned reward. It just falls; despite this pandemic or that our friend is dead or that I haven’t seen my family in almost a year or that my heart is broken; so very broken and so full of love. I stand under a waterfall and I cry. I sob and I breathe and I ache at the idea of being alive. I am no longer able to stand under a waterfall and just see it. I feel it in every inch of my bones; because I understand that I am lucky to be alive, that I am lucky to feel joy and that I am lucky to have moments that my trauma and the system can not steal from me. I am lucky to have moments that my privilege has awarded me and I know that if I take them for granted the system wins again. I’d rather sob under a waterfall for freedom than bury my head in the privilege this system has used to harm us all. I feel raw. I feel opened up. I feel alive; as alive as the pain is real, as the trauma is real, as the love is real, as our humanity is real, as you matter as much as I matter and you always have.

It’s ok to miss my family and miss playing music and miss the parts of life that bring me joy. This pandemic is hard, and frankly life is harder. We shouldn’t shame ourselves for feeling the deep grief and pain of it or for wanting peace and comfort, and we certainly shouldn’t shame ourselves for having a hard time living in a system that doesn’t care if we live or die. The shocker is how long we’ve been able to white knuckle our way through it. I hope we can all start to recognize the ways this system has convinced us that we profit from someone else’s pain and loss. The actual pay off is in the walk toward freedom and the love we witness along the way.

To finding love in an apocalypse, freedom in our land, and peace within our hearts.