to be lucky and irritable

when things are fine and also shitty

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Dear friend — 

We’re about a year into the pandemic. Are you as irritable as I am?

Little things are starting to make me lose it. Last week, I finally managed to return the work laptop for the job I quit back in January. Completing this simple task was a convoluted, drawn-out process. First, I never received the promised return instructions, so I had to lug the laptop from Las Cruces to Albuquerque to El Paso as I nomaded about. When I emailed to ask what was up, one person emailed another person who emailed the New York company to which this laptop retrieval process was outsourced, which triggered a chain of emails back letting me know a package had been mailed to my virtual mailbox — in California. More email chains ensued. Eventually UPS rerouted my package to Texas. When it arrived, all it contained was a UPS label and a few sheets of plasticky cushioning. What a waste! I thrust the laptop into the original box, stuck on the label, and drove to wait double-masked in a short but extremely slow line at a local UPS store. On my way out I was accosted by a kid trying to raise money for D.A.R.E., a program I’ve despised since childhood. Finally, I got back to my Airbnb — to find another car in my parking spot. 

I was so irritated I wanted to punch someone. Except there was no one to punch. No one was against me — I was just irritated with being alive.

In this strange point in history, irritation at the small minutiae of life triggers other, more troubling feelings — like extreme guilt. Do I really have the right to feel irritated at a time when half a million Americans have died of COVID? When millions of Texans have recently suffered without power, heat, or water during a freezing winter storm? When I can see all the jobs lost and livelihoods decimated as I drive through a cityscape of shuttered restaurants and shops? Each one of those closed doors represents people’s hopes and dreams unceremoniously crushed — while my own hopes and dreams live on intact as I traverse the country, moving from one clean and comfy Airbnb to another, healthy and vaccinated.

I feel very lucky, and very irritable. 

Irritation, apparently, is a common feeling right now — as are stress, anxiety, and depression. Somehow I avoided these negative emotions for the most part the first 11 months of the coronavirus crisis, but in the last month or so, they’ve been battering me down too. 

What can we consider a healthy mindspace at a time like this? In normal times, high levels of depression and anxiety are considered mental illnesses. Yet we could make a pretty good argument that feeling depressed and anxious is a normal reaction to the current state of things — that in fact NOT feeling depressed or anxious is a sign of pathology.

As a person who’s gone through a number of depressive episodes in the past, “am I depressed” is a question I ask myself often. Perhaps you do too. There’s the fear that, unless you’re vigilantly watching out for the signs and taking action to manage the symptoms, you could spiral unwittingly into another terrible episode. Trouble is, depression has so many symptoms, most of them common. Sleeping less than usual? You may be depressed! Sleeping more? You also could be depressed! Eating less? Depression! Eating more? Depression! Feeling tired? Depression! Hard time concentrating? Depression? Irritable? Depression! 

Kari Assad @kariassad

Am I depressed or is laying down fucking awesome

And the advice for managing depression too feels contradictory. Some say stick to a productive schedule to create structure and purpose for yourself — others say take it easy to give your body and mind much-needed rest. Some say eat better and exercise a lot, others say be more forgiving of yourself, leave room for indulgences. Everything you do feels a little to a lot wrong — though I suppose that means everything also feels a little to a lot right — 

So far I’ve tried to manage my irritability with a motley collection of solutions: drinking more water, taking more walks, and spending more time chatting with friends — which seems to be helping a bit. I also tried float therapy for the first time — not particularly helpful, but interesting!

One thing I continuously have to remind myself of is that emotions inevitably shift and change with time, even without my stressing out trying to force them to change. And life too shifts and changes. Yesterday, I arrived in Austin by way of Marfa. I’ve gone from living alone to living in a gigantic house with my friend Lindsay (also vaccinated) and her cute dog, Carl. Free puppy therapy!

How are you doing, close to a year into the pandemic? And what helps you feel better?

Hope your March is healthy and happy — 

Love,

Siel

Slowly making my way across Texas

Three links you might love:

1. What if the ability to feel emotions is the first sign you’ve caught a deadly disease? That’s the premise of Equals, a scifi film I randomly watched because it happened to be on Showtime. It didn’t get much love from the critics but I think it makes for a perfect pandemic movie. It starts slow but I encourage you to stick with it! If you watch it, let me know what you thought.

2. Forget loving the work you do. Value your time instead. Sarah Jaffe makes the case against loving your work. “A society where we must work the majority of our waking hours will never deliver us happiness, even if we are the lucky few who have jobs in which we do gain some joy.”

3. Hear Dana Spiotta and Ocean Vuong read at The Paris Review’s Spring Issue Launch on March 11.

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