Nothing to Do Anymore

So I have worked so hard for the last year to rid myself of things to do.
That's right, I have retreated into my most reclusive self.
I work 3 days a week from 8-4pm. Besides that, I teach about 5 classes a week.

In all that is about 26 hours of work each week. Most people work 40 minimum. I also gave up most of my volunteering and any other extracurricular activities.

My question. Is this a sign of impending depression, knowing the days are getting shorter, and each night I sleep more and more hours (last night was a hefty 11)? Or am I doing what I need to do to get my head on straight? What does that even mean?

I've noticed that in my life, I tend to view depression as Not Doing. I view "happy" as doing. But half the time, I start Doing something, only to find that I hate what I am doing, have no idea how I got there, and I feel stuck to get out.

So there. I have nothing to do. I am doing Nothing. Old Jackie would have said, this is a state of unhappiness, because our happiness (apparently I refer to myself as more than one person) has always come while Doing. So ergo, nothing means no happiness.

I am out to prove me wrong.

I am keeping myself company in these extra 13 hours.

This girl I hang out with (myself) is a lot like this, from my point of view:
She is really sad sometimes.
I like her the most when she takes us outside to play. She really knows what she likes, everyday is a different adventure, playing in the park, running, pushups, sometimes handstands against the trees. This makes her really happy. She smiles from the inside.

When we come home, I notice she gets aggravated. I don't know why, but she seems to have trouble breathing indoors, in her home. Like she wants something more, something to do, to feel worthy, to feel she is contributing.

She doesn't get along with her cats sometimes. She gets tired easily.

She likes to be quiet.

When we go out with people, she talks a lot. I don't know why, it seems odd given how quiet she is with me all day long. She seems to want approval from people, even from people that she doesn't like.

She likes to be hugged, quietly, firmly. She has trouble saying love.


She is really happy to have time alone after too much company. To cuddle up with a blanket and a book or a movie. This is when I like her a lot.

It's hard to watch someone like her, and not feel a lot of emotions about all the above, like a sense of sadness, as though she feels she is worthless or that no one cares. But I care for her a lot, and I want her to know that. I think she might feel better if she had a God that reassured her of being loved, but this is a silly thought, to both of us. I think she wants a friend, someone to share secrets with and to love. It has always been her pen and paper in the past, and she has this fiance who loves her. But something seems amiss. Weird.

gangs

Shot in the street, his brother is dead.
He is injured, but not in the head.
No, he remains, controlling my friend,
Who keeps hoping she can contend,
With his chaos and gangs, raising their baby.

I know she will stay, but i wish she would leave.
"Take Back the Night", when inside I grieve.
Cuz our homes are not safe, I worry for them.
I didn't leave, I waited for him

He had to leave before I spoke,
To show all the bruises, and the rib that he broke.
How can I hope that she'll be unique,
When I held on long, when I was too weak?

She says she'll be strong,
But it's been that way too long.
I blame myself for the danger she's in,
I feel defeated, that she will not win.


When women fight wars,
We lose even more,
Guns are for men, we have more in our seed.
When women have power, their softness will lead.

So this war she is fighting, I can't hope she will win,
He must leave first, or die like his kin.
One day she might rule, but she'll never win.