I’ve been…so down lately.
Not like suicidal down, but just…down. Quick to cry. Quick to yell. So goddamn tired it hurts.
It’s a fight to get out of bed. It’s a fight to get through the day. It’s a fight to do anything.
I’ve basically quit working out. I’m not paying any attention to what I’m eating. I’m not taking care of myself in the sense of actual self-care, just enough so no one asks questions.
Because, to look at me, you’d never know that I hit snooze/changed my alarm four different times today. You’d never know that I picked a fight with my husband, because it makes me feel something. You’d never know for the first time in…a long ass time…I contemplated cutting.
You wouldn’t know, because I would never let you know.
I just want to feel better. I want to have energy. I want to want to get out of bed.
I want to write blog posts about progress, growth, and healing. I want to be able to talk to people about how good things are going.
And…here we are. Another post saying that I’m a mess. Another post saying that I hate my life.
I should probably quit blogging, because I’m helping no one, and I’m not even sure I’m helping myself.
Does it help to dwell on how miserable one is? Probably not. Does it make me feel better? Maybe momentarily.
I wish I had some bright conclusion, happy, hopeful thoughts. I wish I felt happy about the upcoming holidays, but I really just want to curl into a ball in my room and sleep until January.
As the saying goes, wish in one hand, shit in the other…