It's a beautiful morning and I'm sitting on the swing in the garden feeling humdrum blue. I've hit a rough patch. I've been terribly overwhelmed, anxious, and crying like candy. I feel so lonely and lost and full of shame. This isn't me. This is mood swings, and lies, and depression, and bullshit. It's still hard to kick. Kick up my heels and run back into life. I can hardly convince myself to go to therapy today.

My brain keeps hacking and churning out hard-on-me thoughts. I try to fly above the prattle but little brain is there, little brain is loud, little brain is busy. So I water the house plants, all undressed in the sink, and I go through the motion, eat my strawberry sandwich. 

When I'm alone it gets worse, because there is no one there to remind me life is real and worth it. Only the loudmouth depression yelling at me. Thing is, I'm alone most of the time. This solitary life is working out less and less for me. But I can't very well beg for friends on the side of the road, my two cent cup and cardboard sign. So loneliness it is.

In the end I'll get through it, I always do. 

xo, C

1 comment:

  1. I'm sorry to hear you're going through a rough time. Those patches are the worst, and I'm thinking about you.


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