The past couple of weeks have been interesting to say the least, filled with anxiety, depression, and hope.
It’s a weird combination.
And yet, that’s exactly how life has been of late. Walking on eggshells, tip toeing through a field of mines, hoping that I’ll make it out.
I’d be lying if I said I have.
I have not.
I’ve spent a fair majority of my time finding ways to pre-occupy myself so I don’t drive myself crazier than I already have. I can’t say those attempts have been successful but they haven’t completely failed, so I suppose that’s something.
The constant stress and worrying has reflected in my inability to sleep for more then a few hours at a time. Something I do plan to discuss with my doctor. I know it’s not healthy and yet I’m struggling to break myself out of the habit, with little success (see the time of this blog).
The struggle to get out of bed is a real one. One I face most every day and one that I usually lose. But still the mantra of “Tomorrow.” repeats in my head but still the next day brings no change and so the cycle continues.
I’ve been spending an exorbitant amount of time on Vicarious which is great for the community but doesn’t elicit any desire or motivation for me to do more. I have a long list of things on my todo list but am too apathetic to do much about it.
My normal compulsions aren’t pressing on me as they typically do, which I suppose is a good thing, but it’s doing nothing for the state of my house or, if I’m honest, my wellbeing. I should probably go talk to someone but again, that falls squarely into the “Can’t Be Bothered” category.
Here’s to hoping that tomorrow, I might actually care.