Got out of my apartment for a few hours yesterday. Spent most of that time in the complex library. Talked to a few neighbors and caught up on news. We have had a lot of new residents lately. I’ve been in here for fourteen years now. I guess I’m now one of the old timers. I can think of only a handful of people who’ve been here longer.
Been chatting with my best friend a lot lately. She’s concerned about losing hours at her job. Thankfully she earns some commissions. But we both think things could get a lot worse before they recover. In some ways I’m glad I became disabled. I’ve seen how bad customer service workers are treated by both the general public and management. It’s sickening. It was tough having my hopes and dreams killed by mental illness, but I guess if it had to happen I’m glad it happened in my younger days. It prepared me well for the challenges of middle age and this pandemic.
Don’t have much planned for today. Probably watch a couple baseball games and call a couple friends.
A Life Of Mental Illness 
I have some understanding of what you write here. I was forced by health issues out of a regular job into disability in 2013. I never want to go back to being chained to a desk of an administrative assistant. Im not saying it isn’t important or can’t be fulfilling but I needed that push out to focus on finishing my MA degree this December, writing, developing my photography, and preparing to do freelance to the extent I can do. I’ll still probably be on disability but I’ll be productive in a way I can appreciate. Kudos to you for making that mental adjustment.