My Desk

This is my desk. When I sit here I feel free. I had moved it to use as part of a friendsgiving this year, and only moved it back this weekend. Although I knew in the fall I wasn’t myself, the bear of depression seemed so sudden in December. The winter turned out to be a hiatus of all things I enjoy: clinical depression. Finally with acknowledgement from myself and increased resources, I got my mojo back, just in time for quarantine 😩. My sister came over (with a mask 😷) to help me shimmy it back into place this weekend because after a loaded four months, I was afraid of what feelings it would trigger. I’m sitting at my desk writing this; it’s like riding a bike.

My desk is such a beauty. She’s actually a piece of shit I ordered from Kohl’s, but I LOVE her. She works hard. Takes on much more than she can handle (I mean we started a small business with almost $0 here). She’s been through hell and bares the nicks and scrapes to prove. She buckles under the weight of her expectations sometimes, but she’s still standing. And in case you haven’t noticed by now, my desk is a metaphor for me.

It’s going to be hard to let go when I upgrade. 😉