I wish I just felt like a fucking little bit better. I can handle depression, but the depth of this fucking one is too much. It’s reminding me of old times. And I don’t need to scan as to why I’m feeling depressed, like it’s a goddam mystery - there is nothing left to figure out, all the realities just suck. Introspection over, still sucks.
I need to fast forward the next year of my life… I wish I could. But I think I’ve been doing that the past 10, and it’s just made me feel like I missed it all.
I also lost a lot of life to Covid, sadly. I wish that weren’t true.
So. What will I recall about my 30s? Pathetic. Fucking absolutely tragic how they are passing. I’m not done yet, but holy shit the pit that it has been…
Husband says I hide out in my phone. Yes. Because, when I surface, the crippling anxiety of my real life comes flooding back, and I want to die. And that’s preventing me from having the functional capacity to fix things for myself, to make my life less anxiety-inducing, because that overwhelming wave wall thing that appears feels completely insurmountable. Because in that moment, it is. I would rather die. So, I just close my eyes again and don’t look at it. I do nothing. I hide out. I keep checking to see what happens when I surface intermittently. But I must wait, and then finally a moment does naturally come where, when I surface, I don’t feel SO suicidal. Just less, so I can manage to do a bit more.
But waiting on the bitch to let go a little is fucking rough lately. Exhausting.
I can just never get my shit together.
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