Blogging every day in November was a bust then.
Managing anything at the moment is not going so well.
Good days are good days and I manage to make sure we have supplies, I run the errands and do the shopping. I write lists and make plans. I do some college work.
Then there are the bad days. The days when everything is just too much effort. I wander the house aimlessly. I fixate on something and get myself into such a state that I am unable to function. I make myself ill.
I know when these days come I need to be kind to myself. I know that I should just curl up and read, do the bare minimum, just get all of us through one day at a time.
But I can’t help feeling frustrated and useless. I see friends who work full time, look after their family and still manage to get more done than I do. I feel ashamed that I am not one of those people.
I want to write to get this out but I know that some people will read it and feel concerned. I don’t want to worry the people that love me, those that I have a responsibility to and for, those that I work for. So I think I should just be quiet and get on with it.
But my brain hurts and my head hurts and my heart aches that I am not more than I am.
And then there is a good day and I feel silly, like this is all in my head.
I shared this on Facebook recently, it really hit the nail on the head. With anxiety comes worry – but with depression comes the inability to do anything about it.
I have been to the doctor, increased my medication. I have self referred myself to the local mental health NHS support and I am waiting to hear from them. I am going to stop worrying about it and write more about how I feel because that makes a difference.
I am actually ill this weekend which doesn’t help – I have been trying to sleep and rest and take care of myself. I have spent most of today in bed.
I will keep on taking one day at a time.