Home is where the wine is.
The drastic change in lifestyle and environment has been surprisingly ok. I don’t miss the 75 degree-blue-sky weather, “bad air quality” days, long lines everywhere I went or the monotony of beauty that Los Angeles provided. Not to mention, the things and people I do miss isn’t unbearable, it’s a comfortable level of longing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not loving it in Detroit. However, I wouldn’t be loving Los Angeles, either. I’m learning the environment itself doesn’t matter because I don’t have a job and I lack a feeling of purpose.
I don’t think I’m depressed because that’s dramatic and much more serious than this moment I’m living in. For anyone who suffers from depression, you can recognize the differences between a “rut” and depression. And even though the symptoms for my “rut” are similar to signs of my depression e.g. wanting to sleep all the time, avoiding phone calls, withdrawing and isolating; it’s still all about the gravity of the warnings.
The most bothersome and maybe surprising symptom: not wanting to drink wine. I know it sounds crazy and with most people it might be the opposite. If I’m not feeling happy and healthy, I physically don’t want to drink it, the smell doesn’t seduce me but rather repulses me and in a way, I don’t feel I deserve it. However, like all my other symptoms I’m going to fight to overcome this one. I will drink wine, even if I don’t want to.
I’m going to be fine and I feel this stage is important for me to go through to help me decide what it is I’m supposed to be doing with my life and where I’m supposed to be. I need struggle to change and I’m thankful I am in an area that has so much available love to give me, if need be.