These past few weeks I’ve noticed a change in me. I wouldn’t say that I’m sad, but I’m disengaged. I know what it is: my old foe, depression.
It crept up on me. Looking back, I notice the colours fading, in a metaphorical sense.
I don’t enjoy the things that I normally enjoy, and I don’t feel like doing anything even though there is so much that I want to do. For instance, I want to work on this blog, my stories, my dad’s stories, and learn to code. I just can’t seem to get myself to do stuff.
It’s not just being lazy; I know what lazy feels like. Depression is just like carrying a boulder around—you just can’t do the things you want to do.
I just want to sleep the whole day, or I spend hours watching YouTube videos.
The one thing I can get myself to do every day is to work out. My husband and I go for a walk at about 5 o’clock and when we get home, I exercise. It puts me in a better mood, and I’m also trying to fit into my pre-COVID clothes again, so it also helps with that.
After the workout, I have a bit more motivation to do stuff, but it only lasts an hour or so. Usually, I end up on the couch watching a series with bae.
At the end of the day, I feel guilty for not getting to all the things on my to-do list and I’m getting more and more behind, and that guilt is paralysing.
I got so much better for a while, and then I hit a few stumbling blocks, and here I am again.
It has to do with the fact that I’m struggling to get a job, and that is just terrible. I feel useless, and then I feel too depressed to do the house chores, and then I feel even more useless. I can’t work and I can’t be a housewife. What am I good for?
I’m trying to be better, but it’s hard.
Can you relate to this post? Let me know in the comments.