I am a grumpy lump.
I just submitted the first proper assignment for my art history course; it was a response to a formal analysis question about a Vermeer painting (no, not the pearl one). I’ve re-read my assignment a few times now and each time it seems to get worse. It looked decent at the point of submission, but now it seems inadequate… I waffled and used the phrase ‘tonal modelling’ repeatedly, and probably inaccurately, to compensate for my lack of art vocabulary. It’s the kind of assignment that might even turn my tutor into a grumpy lump. (Behold, I wield the magical power to turn a happy person into an unhappy blob with the click of a button!)
I don’t want to talk about Grandad’s funeral that much, except to say that it’s a valid reason to be a grumpy lump. The sight of a coffin is depressing in general, but especially so when it contains someone you’ve known since birth, who you somehow expected to always be around, even after they reached one hundred.
Depression and anxiety are currently making me feel very trapped, but I am able to function in a way that I haven’t been in the past, so it’s not the worst it’s been. But that’s the thing about depression, once you’ve known a very severe episode you’re always worried in case it returns.
Oh, and just for irony value, I am reading a novel called ‘The Enchanted April’, set in Italy, quite humorous, but also quite inappropriately titled given my low mood and the fact that a Coronavirus-haunted April in England is significantly less enchanted than an idyllic spring in an Italian seaside castle.
Project of Being 