It’s been a day I’d rather not talk about, honestly. The depression has been horrible. I’ll admit to wanting to be dead today. I am not a quitter, and I am not suicidal, but things would’ve felt so much better if I could’ve just slipped away into the abyss tugging at my legs. My despair today was near the levels I experienced in the months following the death of my mom. The weight I feel is heavy. So heavy.
I have the bravest friends and loved ones on the planet, and I thank you. You keep me afloat when all I feel is a body full of emotional concrete.
I’m at a point now where I’m listening to music, have chosen a bottle of very nice Cab-Sauv and a tub of Cheeselets for dinner. I’m hiding in my cave/office and doing little organisational tasks which make me feel a little better about the chaos I have swirling in my brain and surroundings. I oscillate wildly between tears and calm, unfeeling deadness.
I am broken and broke, but my life is not a bad one. I’m working to change my stars, one shimmer at a time.