Anxiety and depression suck!
Everything can be (and basically is) going so well but the feeling of foreboding just lingers like a bad smell.
Im having panic attacks just driving through town, anticipation of the expected blast of extra people that will inevitably be filling the town over the holidays.
The days are draaaaaagggging!
All energy is a beautiful, distant memory of days gone by when I could wake up one morning and decide to paint an entire room and have it done by evening.
All activities, big or small, take careful planning.
I want to stake the tomatoes? Better make sure I'm not working the next day in case my back seizes and I exhaust myself.
It's pathetic and destroying and frustrating and heartbreaking.
I am trying so hard to just be.
All the things I love to do, the things that make me who I am, just exhaust me at the thought.
Crocheting seems like running a marathon and aches my head.
I want to crochet but when I think about picking up some wool and a hook it seems too hard.
I am thankful to have finished the twin's blankets before their arrival.
I have the Dahlia yarn pack from Attic24 still tucked away.
The colours are screaming at me, my heart needs their warmth and vibrancy, but can I really be bothered?
The sun comes out to warm my bones but it's easier to lay in bed than sit on a chair out the back.
I force myself to make short trips to the beach for Son3, before the crowds arrive.
It's taken me this long to write a blog post and here I am, whinging.
As Son2 would say.. you want some cheese with that whine?
I hope I can look back at this post in the very near future and think, thank goodness I got through that.
Holidays are coming up.
I will be able to rest up, absorb the sunshine and moon glow, take my time and hopefully feel better.
Big apologies for a very negative post but better out than in, right?
🤍
