Notes on feeling depressed by our current situation
Depression comes and goes. Every day is something very different in my head. It’s weird, but absent any specific stimulus or trigger, each new day can bring completely different feelings and emotions. There is no standard set of items to keep the day on track.
Because of a mix of Covid travel measures and early retirement plans that have been fucked, life as it relates to our living situation and plans for the future have become something we really don’t recognize.
Related Post: The Retirement Road Less Traveled
To borrow and extend an old flight metaphor, we are in a total holding pattern before being able to take off. The cabin is comfortable, but my seat is broken, a little dirty, and there’s a piece of metal jabbing me in the back if I lean back too hard. I’m probably at least in Economy plus seating with good leg room, but I’m in the middle seat and my hopes of being upgraded to first class are gone. I have to go to the bathroom but the seatbelt sign has been on for a while now and I can’t get up because the fat guy next to me has already fallen asleep. And, worst of all, the flight attendants have stopped talking to us, I am pretty certain I have missed my connecting flight, and although the TV in the seat in front of me works and is on, the only thing on are 24 channels of old Saved By The Bell re-runs.
For the first time…maybe ever, we are in total control of everything that we do, everything that happens to us, and every stimulus we encounter. No one is yelling at us or directing us. We have no appointments, no work, and no mandatory social engagements. On the activity side, we have no house to clean or fix, no garden to tend, no bike to repair (or ride for that matter), no car into which we need to put gas or which needs service, and no home finance to manage (got good peeps to do that for us now). Hell, we don’t even have any mail to get…nothing.
We are solely responsible for the input and output of stimulus and emotions…and it doesn’t seem to be going especially well.
We have lost all incidental interactions; coworkers, neighbors, friends of friends, random people at a bar. We have completely separated ourselves from the acquaintance aspect of life and it might be taking a toll. I have lost the simple joy of sitting in a cafe or bar and watching people go by, casually chatting with the staff about the specials, etc. I actually think I miss people I don’t even know. The pandemic stripped us of the casual relationships that seem meaningless at the time but actually represent a vast majority of our personal interaction; the barista that makes your daily cappuccino or the bartender at your favorite bar that always gives you just a tad more wine, the neighbor with whom you have only exchanged acknowledging nods in the hallway, the simple ‘hi’ from the clerk at the market. I am either unable to experience these things due to quarantine rules, the shuttering of establishments, or fear of being in the wrong place or getting too close to unmasked carriers of disease. Or, maybe worst of all, I am unable to experience these things because of my own choices, specifically regarding selling all our shit and moving away during a pandemic. Probably something worth exploring.
So, some days we are up, living the life of retired expat nomads, and some days we are down, sad about lost months and failed plans, not able to put a stake in the ground as to when and where we will go and what we will do.
Like so many others, this weird period of time has turned things a bit sideways. On the good days, I feel blessed, not needing to work, being healthy, and having Lael to hang out with during the day and to spoon with when the sun goes down. On those good days, I see a light at the end of the tunnel and think that we just postponed things a year or so before hitting the trails and exploring new places and cultures. On the bad days, I see the finish line of life more clearly than the starting gate, focussing on my rapidly graying hair (hey, at least I still have most of it), and worrying that things have changed forever, that time is finite, and whatever I thought of life and plans has been poured into a full port-a-potty, set on fire, and then tipped over into the street.
All that said, I still maintain that we’ve won. We haven’t hit our destinations but we certainly have taken the first steps and stripped away all elements of the past. The band-aid has been ripped off. We are on that flight. We don’t have to go to work. We’ve eliminated obligations and possessions. We can go anywhere, anytime, and do anything we want. As I said before, we are in control…mostly, #Covid19. But we are victims of our own dreaming. We want so badly to go, to do something that we currently can’t do. We have worked so hard to eliminate any reason and any excuse to not do something. We can do anything we want, but we are stuck waiting for clearance, for the the world to open up, and with the confluence of economics, politics, and pandemics, not even sure it will be a world we recognize.
So, kind of a mixed bag. On the bright side, and back to my flight metaphor, we’re on the plane. We made the flight and, as a bonus, there are no screaming kids kicking my chair. And, although we can’t fly just yet, someone parked the drink cart right by my seat and I get to hold Lael’s hand. Now, just take off and turn off the fucking seatbelt sign so I can pee.
