This sadness comes and goes in waves. Most days I'm fine and in public I'm fine but when I'm all alone (which is a lot) sometimes I break down. The smallest thing can trigger it like a photo or kid drawing from when we lived in our old house, or it comes when I'm just sitting on the couch staring straight ahead wondering what I should do with myself.
I realize this
is a luxury many people do not have. I know I should cherish and
appreciate it. I see photos of terror attacks in Paris and Syrian refugees and I know I have it
easy. (Seeing photos of terror and refugees is no doubt contributing to
my sadness.) I'm trying desperately to see beauty around me but missing
mountains, and green, my old job, and our old house. I do not love my
new house. My backyard makes me want to turn around and go back inside.
My studio makes me feel claustrophobic. We're renting now, for $1,000
more a month than we were paying for a house we owned that had a garden
and fish pond and trees we planted. I am not cut out for city living. I