above: me crying in 2018, me crying in 2022, me in 2024 with crying stickers on top of my face

Being unemployed has created cycles of emotion. I went weeks crying while I drank my coffee, crying as I rewatched episodes of Bob's Burgers, crying as I stripped the sheets from the bed to replace with fresh ones. My most recent therapist (whom I had to recently stop seeing) told me that perhaps I was crying because, with so many hours in the day, it was hard to stay busy. Hard to stay positive. I gave him half, a compromise. It is hard to stay positive, yes. But not busy. I am creating furniture from paper clay and drawing with colored pencils and working on a novel (seriously, for the first time). I am doing laundry and folding laundry and I am watching Lifetime movies while I re-season my cast iron. 

While I write this, it is snowing in New York, the most snow the city has seen in at least three years. The snow is beautiful, but the depth of the sky, the whiteness of it all, makes me feel again like crying. January was like falling down the stairs. February has been a lot of picking up where I left off in the fall - projects being finished, plants being watered, lists and lists and lists.