I was back to work this past week, after being off for 11 days (thanks to covid and a well-placed vacation day). Yep. Back to the grind. My days back weren't bad days . . . just . . . days. They weren't insanely busy (thank God), and I worked with good people. But - to be honest - I just wasn't feeling it. I would have much rather been at home. Mood wise I was down, withdrawn, quiet, maybe even a little stand-offish. I tried not to let my depression get the best of me, but, truth is, it kinda did. I tried so hard to interact and joke and laugh but everything fell flat. I felt so empty and numb. A shell of who I'm supposed to be. And it sucked. I'm not sure people notice that I'm struggling. Which, I guess, is the goal of my pretending. But I wish someone would notice and be like, "hey, are you really okay?"
In other news, I've created a lot of art recently. All in all I think I'll have 18 paintings to show my therapist on Thursday. Eighteen. That's a lot of painting. Most are melancholy, a few aren't. He had suggested that I paint with color - most of them are monochromatic grey. What can I do though? It's how I'm feeling. Grey. Monochromatic. No color, no life.
Here's a few of my latest paintings:
I included a couple of "color" paintings, and a couple of "not color" paintings. The monochromatic grey definitely outweigh the color ones though. It'll give us something to talk about in therapy, right? Right.
I guess I'll leave it at that. Hopefully we all have a good week.
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