Ugh My Head

I literally don’t even know what to write right now, I just know that I want to put something out here into the world as I grapple with these conflicting feelings inside me.

I want to do something. I don’t want to do anything. I want to get out of bed, but I’m still here. Is this how I am going to spend my reset day? Finishing Inventing Anna and not being able to focus on anything for more than 30 seconds?

I feel like I’m equating my worthiness to my accomplishments. I didn’t do well in school this week (by my standards,) I want to get a job, but on days like this I feel like… how can I have a job? And it’s always been like this. Every few days, or every few weeks, or every few hours. High, low, panic, placid.

If I don’t get any likes on a blog post that I did, am I worthless? If I don’t clean up around my apartment, am I a loser? If I don’t wash my hair, am I invalid? I don’t understand how to pivot besides writing and at least today I can’t make my brain believe that I’m doing it because it is what I love. I love all of this and I don’t know how to convince myself that it’s all worth it.

I’m stressed, sad, and dizzy. I want to create the day that I imagined when I woke up in more than just words on this blog. Put the laundry away, make a tutoring appointment, write, read, try on all the new makeup you bought yesterday. Literally do anything except sit here and whine to no one about problems that don’t exist.

Where does the darkness come from? Is it always there? Is it getting worse? Is it the new meds? Because if this is a typical side effect before you start feeling better, then I have to tell you that the Prozac is absolutely making me feel like shit. And if it isn’t the Prozac, then maybe I am just predicting my doom and the paralysis is a pre-condition of my future.

Is trudging through the hopelessness by doing your day-to-day bullshit worse than the feelings of inadequacy. themselves? Maybe that’s why the excitement I felt at imagining my potential accomplishments when there were no stakes has turned to misery today.

My mind is wandering again. Maybe I’ll brood on my (MADE!) bed a little longer. Maybe I will actually wash my hair.

Someone invent a magic pill to make me like the rest of the world.