When I’m particularly depressed, which I have been more in the last two or three months than I have been in the last few years, I don’t really do much.
I don’t want to get out of bed in the morning, I don’t want to leave the house, ever, for anything, and when it comes to things I have to do, like for work, I literally go out of my way to do anything and everything to NOT do those things, including and up to cleaning my house.
Of course, the winter makes things everything worse.
The cold makes it so that even on occasions where I might want to leave the house, I still feel like I am being personally assaulted by the weather, insult adding more injury.
It really, really sucks.
As my moods undulate the current of my days, I’m finding myself just trying my best to hold on tight, to screw my lips into something resembling a smile as I walk out of my room in the morning wondering what fresh new hell the day will bring.
I’ve been worrying a lot lately about Elise worrying about me.
I don’t want her to have memories of her mom always crying.
Even this, a commitment to daily writing, and writing more and more throughout the year, even this is a chore that I sometimes have to drag myself to only minutes before the day ends.
I’m still always surprised when the day ends and we’re all okay, and I know I’m not the only one feeling it this year.