I am indeed still alive and feeling better. Six months of antidepressants, frequent chats with Vinnie (my erstwhile antiques-dealer-and-therapist pal), and some serious changes at work have started me on the road to recovery, or at least the road towards Giving A Fuck Again. I've been getting the support I need to do my job well and properly, and I've generally been given the space I need to do the stuff I like doing. (I think I scared the shit out of Howie, my long-time boss, during my meltdown. I think he might be a little more willing to back off from me so I don't just quit Design Associates in a desk-flipping-and-burning blaze of glory.)
I've had a hard time coming up with anything to say here on WAD, and when I do think of something, I don't feel like writing it down. The biggest change in my life that I'm finding is a lack of my former energy and what I call sudden onset procrastination. Vinnie, however, has diagnosed it as "how everyone else feels all the goddamn time". I don't know if it's my late-thirties doing this to me, or if this is how I'm supposed to feel when I peel away the layers of depression and anxiety. Either way, I'm adjusting to a New Normal.
I'm still committed in some way to continuing to share with the world Why Architecture is Still Fucked Up and Needs to Fix Its Shit. Having been broken and chased into a black hole by my job and profession, I cannot stand by and watch it eat its young and itself. When I can, I'll muster up the energy to blog-n-bitch about what I see and what the profession's future can be. Word.