Today was one of those days. It was a struggle. I had lots of good intentions about today the night before. I was going to get up, go pay the rent, get groceries and take care of a few other errands I’ve been putting off. That was my intent, but I ended up doing none of those things because I just couldn’t leave the house. Luckily I have a very nice husband who was able to complete the tasks that needed to be done today, but for me, the day was a write off. And speaking of write off, guess what else doesn’t seem to be happening? Yup, actual writing.
Aside from this blog post (which I’ve been trying to write for the last two hours) I haven’t been able to keep going on my work in progress either. It’s frustrating. I swear some days I feel like I could take on the world, and other days, like today, I feel like the world is just running me over. I’m tired. I’m sad. I’m filled with self-hate.
I work hard to remind myself that depression isn’t cured, it’s managed. Someone once likened it to the weather. It may get rough but it always changes. This is true. I’ve been through it enough over the years to know this, so why does it feel in these times like the world is ending? This disease makes no sense. I’m really sick and fucking tired of it.
What’s the purpose of this blog post? I’m not sure. Maybe I just need to vent, which I maybe shouldn’t do here. I like to think of topics that I’m passionate about and write about those, but tonight I just don’t know which end is up and so here I am, blogging.
Keep your fingers crossed for me that my weather system changes soon. I want the sun to shine. I’d make it shine if I could. Right now I’m just sitting here, outside in a thunderstorm feeling cold and wishing I had some earplugs to drown out the noise.