Running on Empty

I haven't been posting much, or commenting elsewhere. I haven't been engaging much with the real world, either.

Being the parent of an active 10-year-old insures that I can't just roll up in a fetal ball and sleep away the days, the way I did in my twenties when bleakness struck. Thank heavens.

So I'm a much better-functioning adult, thanks to life-saving meds, a competent pshrink, and the love, support, and (in the case of Monkeyboy) needs of those closest to me.

But from here inside my self-generated black hole, the world looks grey and the outlook seems hopeless.

Work's a nightmare. I'm getting a lotta credit for backstopping a lot of things while we hobble along with key vacancies. But it's tiring, scary, and I'm always worrying about which balls are just about to drop.

In other aspects of my life I'm going through the right motions --- laundry and garbage at home, tutoring and worshipping at shul, poker with the guys every couple of weeks --- but I'm nearly anhedonic.

RFB, Monkeyboy, and some dear friends are hip to where I'm at. They try to provide help, comfort or perspective. Sometimes it works. Briefly.

It'll pass.

Soon, I hope.