I said yesterday that I’ve started volunteering at the library. Why?
Is it because of my deep and abiding passion for genealogy? No. Don’t get me wrong, I love libraries and I’m happy to help out, but that definitely isn’t the reason. And, as implied by the word “volunteer,” the pay is somewhere between zilch and nada.
As with so many things in my life lately, it’s about depression.
See, I haven’t been working for about six months. I’m not happy about that, but I just couldn’t do my old job anymore. So I stayed home.
The first month or so, it went fairly well. I had made myself a schedule – working on stuff, studying, doing chores, keeping active – and I stuck to it. I was even planning to start a tutoring business.
But after a while, that all began to fall apart. I needed energy and self-discipline, and those are two of the things that depression drains the most. Before long I was sitting around, taking naps, browsing the Internet, not going outside, and hating myself more and more for allowing it to happen.
With this illness, I need structure.
Volunteering at the library…
- gets me out of the house
- makes me interact with people (at least a little)
- forces me to do something productive
- gives me a feeling of accomplishment (which helps with the self-hatred thing)
- is short and simple enough that it doesn’t overwhelm me
All in all, it’s a pretty good gig.
Just another piece of the battle strategy.