I've resigned myself, or something.
Mar. 28th, 2020 01:06 pmHonestly feeling okay today. Mostly. I mean, I'm depressed, my uterus is still in full rebellion, I haven't had a day off from the goober in... er... I have also lost all sense of time? Several weeks, at least. I did have two hours off Tuesday before last so I could do therapy. Before that I'm not sure.
But like, we're having little to no trouble getting food, our pantry is actually stocked to the point where I'm starting to have mild "But what if we can't eat the perishables and waste some?" anxiety, because my food issues are...weird, put it that way. (I was never personally aware of being food insecure, my parents always got us plenty to eat, but I was raised by parents who were intensely food insecure and literally traumatized by the difficulty of feeding us kids when they were young and poor, so I was taught that to waste food is a literal sin that I should feel immense guilt over. I've gotten much better about being able to, I no longer eat things that taste awful just to not waste them, but I do still fret over the idea of needing to throw out large amounts of food. It's a talent in hard times, I guess, but still...)
Anyway! We're doing fine, JJ got us filet mignons (filets mignon?) to have tomorrow, I just had sushi, I'm steaming an artichoke tonight, all favorites, so it's not like I'm not eating well. Cats are fine, kid is driving me bananas but is fine, everything's fine.
I just feel low-key depressed 100% of the time, and it swings into being outright anxious, fearful, angry, and sometimes totally unable to move. I can't really focus. I haven't written a word in days, haven't written anything like my usual output in weeks and weeks. I keep going through a litany of everything wrong with the world and everything wrong with my life in specific, and it feels so damn unfair that I should have a personally traumatic health crisis, lose my mother and have to deal with family bullshit, and then have the whole damn world melt down all in the space of like six weeks.
And yet actually I'm fine? I'm surrounded by people who have lost their income, can't make ends meet, can't get out to get food even if they could afford it, genuinely fear for their lives if they catch C-19, etc. and I'm not dealing with any of that, not really. I mean, I know people my age (41) aren't completely safe, but I'm still in a very low risk group and my immediate family is even lower. I worry some for friends in their 70s and for my mother in law. I stress about the world some. I'm bored and I can't manage to accomplish shit between depression and no time off from the kid. I'm drinking a little too much again, though that's not spiraled out of control the way it did over my family issues last year.
Everything's just...eh. Not the worst. Not great. Things will be shit for a long time. The world will get much worse before it gets better. I won't get time off from the kiddo for weeks to come, maybe months. It is. I'm resigned. That's as positive as I can manage to feel, resigned.
But like, we're having little to no trouble getting food, our pantry is actually stocked to the point where I'm starting to have mild "But what if we can't eat the perishables and waste some?" anxiety, because my food issues are...weird, put it that way. (I was never personally aware of being food insecure, my parents always got us plenty to eat, but I was raised by parents who were intensely food insecure and literally traumatized by the difficulty of feeding us kids when they were young and poor, so I was taught that to waste food is a literal sin that I should feel immense guilt over. I've gotten much better about being able to, I no longer eat things that taste awful just to not waste them, but I do still fret over the idea of needing to throw out large amounts of food. It's a talent in hard times, I guess, but still...)
Anyway! We're doing fine, JJ got us filet mignons (filets mignon?) to have tomorrow, I just had sushi, I'm steaming an artichoke tonight, all favorites, so it's not like I'm not eating well. Cats are fine, kid is driving me bananas but is fine, everything's fine.
I just feel low-key depressed 100% of the time, and it swings into being outright anxious, fearful, angry, and sometimes totally unable to move. I can't really focus. I haven't written a word in days, haven't written anything like my usual output in weeks and weeks. I keep going through a litany of everything wrong with the world and everything wrong with my life in specific, and it feels so damn unfair that I should have a personally traumatic health crisis, lose my mother and have to deal with family bullshit, and then have the whole damn world melt down all in the space of like six weeks.
And yet actually I'm fine? I'm surrounded by people who have lost their income, can't make ends meet, can't get out to get food even if they could afford it, genuinely fear for their lives if they catch C-19, etc. and I'm not dealing with any of that, not really. I mean, I know people my age (41) aren't completely safe, but I'm still in a very low risk group and my immediate family is even lower. I worry some for friends in their 70s and for my mother in law. I stress about the world some. I'm bored and I can't manage to accomplish shit between depression and no time off from the kid. I'm drinking a little too much again, though that's not spiraled out of control the way it did over my family issues last year.
Everything's just...eh. Not the worst. Not great. Things will be shit for a long time. The world will get much worse before it gets better. I won't get time off from the kiddo for weeks to come, maybe months. It is. I'm resigned. That's as positive as I can manage to feel, resigned.