I am spiraling. There is no active depression, no “classic” symptoms to look at and think “oh, I am depressed” and take steps to improve the situation.
The last two weeks, multiple obligations and plans have been cancelled, days have been spent not getting out of bed, getting things done while simultaneously doing nothing.
There’s something in my head saying “okay, now once more, but with feeling this time.”
This weekend was beautiful. I know because my mother told me so, not because I actually left the house. We hosted a party that left me feeling good but with more questions about myself than I ever really wanted to be asking.
Three in the morning sees me awake, fidgeting through the hours with an unrecognizable feeling. As someone who prides herself (when I care to think anything nice of myself at all) as someone who is fairly emotionally intelligent and empathetic, this is a maddening state to find myself in. It drives Nikki crazy as well, who attempted to make it better long enough for me to snap at her and cause her to roll away from me. I’d roll away too. All this twitching about and fuming is obnoxious.
I have plenty of people who love me unconditionally that will, without fail, reach out to me to offer support, love, suggestions. I dread it already. That’s ungrateful, but honest. Tonight is for being selfish in a terribly privileged way, I suppose.
Days and months are stretched out to see on my calendar, in my agenda, cluttering my emails with dates and instructions and requests and reminders. Today’s date is a line left blank, but filled with to-do lists, expectations, and people that need me to have my ducks in a row.
Lucky for them, my ducks are shelved neatly in the hallway.