I talk about demons. What I mean is I joke about demons, because one, demons aren't real, and two, it is a particularly useful way for me to isolate and define the things that I struggle with during the winter, and three, joking is an attempt to make them smaller. Seasonal affective disorder, seasonal anxiety, these are hard to pin down. You can pin down a demon. It's a person. Ish. So this is what demons do. They circle as night falls, as unerring as coyotes when the fire dims. They throw everything at once -- terror, mortality -- a barrage. I actually physically stay away from the windows as the sun goes down, because the dread is so sharp. Can you imagine? Dread, like clockwork, when it gets dark. Every day, right now. You get to the point where earlier and earlier, you anticipate; you fear the window shades, the clock, dinner, thinking of what time it is. All you can think is it's going to hit and it is...
It should be clear by now that we are marching to our own drumbeat. We are the drummers. At a certain point, you stop worrying about whether you "should" unpack books before spackling or "should" play scrabble when there's insulation still to do. You have to just … march. But there are things that are done in a certain order. You can't bake until you have the correct circuit installed. You can't take a bath without the hot water tank being in. (You could, but ow.) For a while, we did that kind of prioritization. We had to. That's not where we are at this stage. From the beginning, we prioritized keeping warm, preparing food, and a place to work. We have our desks set up now, with some setting up still to do, but the important things: clear surfaces, materials at hand, internet and printers. We can cook or bake, and now we have staples and meats. We have warmth when there is power and a generator coming. ...