Today has been anxious. Partly because I’ve spend too much time on Twitter in the last 24 hours, and too much social interaction feels just like playing that old game, Perfection. I feel like I’m racing the timer to solve the puzzle, knowing at any second it’s going to pop up and scare the shit out of me.
I managed to get a few hours of sleep, but not enough to feel any relief. I passed a kidney stone earlier, thank goodness. My sister is back home, but not feeling well, so instead of coming here she wants me to fly there tomorrow. I’m trying so hard to accept this and just do it. Last minute changes to plans often level me. It’s something I’ve been working to overcome for years, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve made any progress. I try to break it down to the most basic steps required of me. First, I need to pack. I try not to allow myself to think past the present task to keep from getting overwhelmed. It sounds simple. But the Depression Monster is lurking, and I’m overtired.
I’m taking a break from the process right now. I didn’t even manage to choose which bag to use. My mind is all over the place. I just want to curl into a ball under my weighted blanket, and disappear. Sigh. I’m so tired of struggling. I’m going to stay home. I’ve been flying too much of late, and not taking enough time in between to decompress. I’ve known for a while now that I’m pushing myself too hard. I want to believe I’ll manage to pull it off with no consequences, but if I think about it, there have been signals. Ignoring them is expensive. I’m actually a little amazed that I haven’t crashed yet, and a twisted part of me wants to keep pushing just to see how much further I can go.
I haven’t managed to do anything productive so far today. I haven’t started my laundry even though it’s 26 minutes past the time I start my laundry. I haven’t done any of my chores. I haven’t left my apartment to check the mail. I haven’t even prepared a meal. I’m hungry, but apparently not enough to do something about it. I considered ordering pizza, but the thought of opening the door to a stranger in order to obtain it crushed that idea. I recognize these signals. I know I’m falling down the rabbit hole of depression. I guess I just don’t care.