I’m exceptionally good at blogging. #consistency.
I’m not going to lie. I’m really struggling with this whole pandemic. Real life was enough of a challenge for me, just getting up is a challenge. Choosing to be a part of life is a challenge. But this pandemic really has me in a horrible mentality.
It’s so weird to be a “helper” human and be unable to help. Back home, I was proudly involved with Emergency Social Services, and whenever there was anything, I was sure to be there, doing something. Anything.
But this crisis has me in a state of uselessness. I’m catching a cold (yes, a cold) so I’ve got myself holed up in the house, and I’m losing it. I just want to be out there fixing something.
It’s not like this is any different than any other day for me. As a hermit who works from home, nothing has /really/ changed, but everything has changed, and my heart hurts for it.
Right now we need to band together and be there for each other, but we have to remember to show up for ourselves and be there for yourself. I have to remember to be there for me. And show up for me. And every day it gets harder to do that.
The thing about depression is that your brain lies to you and tells you horrible things. But all of those horrible things are my reality now. And it’s getting to be too much. I know I need to reach out and connect with my humans and check in on others, but I just can’t. My heart aches for everyone and my little empath heart is just too broken to handle all of the stress, pain, and fear. I want to prepare for the worst; batch cook, start my survival garden, take sewing/mending more seriously, be a good wife, be a good home-keeper, but as soon as I start to move to do something, I’m halted by this immense sadness.
I’m just a giant false start with a heavy heart and an inability to let out whatever this beast is weighing me down.
I wish my medication did something.
catladyriot 