Hi friends, this is the first blog in many many months that I’m actually writing. I really don’t know what to say, but maybe typing this all out will help.
2019 has been a really really really rough year for me. I don’t really want to go into details but I have been more depressed and anxious that I’ve ever been in my life. I spend every day feeling like I can’t breathe. Like someone is sitting on my chest.
And every day gets worse. I have no interest in my hobbies. I barely write and I haven’t put up a podcast since April. I only read 2 books a month. It’s like I’m completely shutting down.
I’ve been really trying to make it through this okay, and I try to help myself feel better, but it isn’t really working. Luckily my anxiety is centered around something with a set in stone date, and I’m hoping after that happens I’ll start feeling normal.
But for now, I’m trying to will myself into doing the things I love. It is incredibly slow going, and 2 steps forward are often followed by 10 steps back.
Yoga helps most of the time. My husband is my rock. Rigby and the cats have been hanging out with me more and more. But I still feel like I can’t breathe. I have to remind myself to take nice deep breaths, and that only works for a second.
God, I don’t want to feel like this anymore. There’s a desparate hopelessness to it. I would do anything to make this better, but I’m also convinced that it will never be better, that I’ll always feel this way.
We’ll see where I am in 2 weeks. Until then I’m going to try to make it through every day. Maybe something beautiful will come out of this. Maybe when it’s all said and done I’ll be a stronger person with a greater appreciation for the precious moments and people in my life.
But right now something is sitting on my chest.
Here’s a cat: