I always tell myself I am going to limit my social media use. I tell myself that a lot. Quarantine has made that harder. I am on social media a lot, posting stupid shit on Instagram stories, yelling at Twitter, and being served insane ads on Facebook. I have even learned a lot about Gen Z via scrolling through Tik Tok for hours on end.

Again, I am not trying to complain about my situation. I am privileged for so many fucking reasons. But if I am struggling with my mental health right now, I can only imagine how others in less fortunate situations are faring. And if you know anything about me, it’s that I really don’t mind talking about depression candidly. I think it’s important to acknowledge that it is fairly common and that there are so many people who cannot afford or do not have access to the help that they need. And that makes times like this even harder. This time is like a forced depression.

The same day I got rejected (for the second time) from one of these institutions, I received a call asking me to help fund their next season. It’s little cosmic things like that that remind me we have to laugh at ourselves. The poor man who called me had no idea that I just cried in my car over a three sentence rejection email from the very same place he was asking me to support. Nor did he know that I had recently quit my job in the hopes of getting into this program or one like it.

Tonight I will be having Passover Seder with my family via Zoom. This is weird for several reasons, but the primary being that I generally avoid seder at all costs.

As a person, and an artist, I have lived my life in the world of “go, go, go.” I hate not having things to do and I love being busy. I love being busy for two reasons: 1) to show the world I can do it…whatever “it” is and 2) to distract myself from the rampant anxiety and depression that live inside my brain. When I have too much time, they take control. They are in charge.