I have been profoundly depressed for nearly a year. Probably longer. First, the election. Then, being laid off by the job that I thought was going to be my forever job. Then Graye's death a few days later. And then and then and then.

I have been walking in a fog of it. I've been canceling on people. I've been struggling hard to get up any morning. I've been sick. I've been tired. I've been shaken up by every single bit of horrible news in the world. And my body has failed on me, repeatedly and profoundly.

A small thing changed, and it put things into perspective today. And I wanted to share that with you.

What happened is I found out that the place that laid me off a year ago is about to do a big hire soon. Which means that under the union contract I may be offered my old job. The one I thought I was going to be in for the rest of my life. And I realized I really don't want it anymore. That if they asked me to do it, I would say no.

I don't want to be in charge of anything at work. I want the option to say no more often. I want a much quieter life. I want to be able to steal time more often than I have been able to in my adult life. I don't want to be a trans mom for an agency anymore. I don't want any of that.

I want to wake up in the morning and write my poems and go to a job that doesn't make a rich person a profit, and for it to be at least a bit meaningful (ironically, a lot of the things I haven't loved about THIS job are about to be cut due to budget constraints...when you remove money, you clarify things really quick. Your mission becomes that much clearer).

I spent a lot of time trying to save the world. I felt like I had to show up for the kids, and then for all trans people. But I realize that I don't have to save the world anymore. That I did my part. I did that sacrifice. And as much as I've been conditioned to feel I have to continue that grind forever, I really need to work on being ok with a quieter, less harried, calmer life. My blood pressure demands it. My body demands it. And my soul demands it.

So...a "come to jesus" moment caused by being able to say no. Even theoretically. No as a magic word. A banishment of guilt and sorrow.

What can I say yes to? Poetry. Love. My body. My years left. My small circle of people. Everything else? No thank you. Bartleby the Scrivener protocols.

And for the first day in almost a year I feel like I have a way forward.

I’m still sick. I’m still feeling that tangle of depression that we all seem to be carrying. But maybe, just maybe, things can get a little better. We’ll see.