Tuesday 5/31/22 Been a while

 Well hello there. It's actually been a while since I last posted. Weird. I try to write once a week, but I've been . . . distracted. "Distracted" probably isn't the correct word to use, but it works. I've been busy and unmotivated and blah and can hardly be bothered to do anything in my time off. I haven't been painting really, or reading. Or doing anything. Volunteering yes. But nothing else. I just can't seem to get off my butt and participate in life right now. 

I think in my last post (or maybe the one before it) I wrote that it would be awhile for me to have a therapy session. Well, Mike's surgery was pushed back to June 6th so he's making time for me this upcoming Thursday. Which is wonderful. I'll have to miss my afternoon volunteering, but I need to be seen. Having therapy helps. Having someone else to talk to helps. And not having to wait 14 or more weeks between sessions really helps. But I'm almost like, what do I talk about? Because there's nothing going on in my life. Like, nothing. I go to work, I volunteer, I eat, sleep, stare off into space. There's nothing. I'm not having as many "bad" days. Days where I'm close to crying and feeling depressed. Most of my days are nothingness. I'm just floating along through life, participating minimally, flat and blah and pretending that I'm okay. I'm good at pretending. I have no motivation to do anything that I normally enjoy. I have no motivation to work out. I have no motivation to try. 

Work is a chore and is bringing me anxiety. I don't want to go. I feel like I need some time off. Just to be away. There's some changes going on that are probably going to be not good. A new staffing grid. They want us working more short staffed. I've had some difficult days recently and this new grid is going to make things worse. Especially for us transition nursery nurses. We'll have no help but be expected to do more. It makes me anxious. If I could muster up any real feelings I'd be pissed. But I have nothing to muster up, except anxiety. And I can't change what they're doing, none of us can. So I fall into apathy and "why bother". Our manager is begging us to trust her, that this will work, and I can't seem to care. I just go in and do my job, try to keep the anxiety at bay, keep my head down and plug along. But it's exhausting. Because I have to keep up appearances that I'm A-okay. I have to be pleasant and upbeat with families. I have to try and connect. Even though all I want to do is hide. 

Volunteering - at least Thursdays - are an escape for me. I get to be with horses and hopefully feel like I'm making a difference. I still have to keep up appearances and participate and be upbeat. Which is hard, despite being with horses. I say that I enjoy my volunteer work, that I love it, that I'm getting something out of it. When, in reality, I'm just there. I'm just going through the motions. Don't get me wrong - it does help. I do feel better after a day of being out in the sun with horses. But it doesn't help as much as I think it should. And again I'm pretending. I don't want the powers that be or other volunteers to know that I'm struggling. So I pretend and tell myself I'm doing good for others and that I enjoy it, even when I don't feel it. What a crappy way to be.

As far as artwork and reading and stuff goes . . . well, I'm not doing it. I did a couple of simple paintings like a week and a half ago and that's all I've done. I can't concentrate long enough to read anything and I don't feel like doing any artwork. I have no motivation or inspiration. Every once in a while I'll get a little spark. A little idea. But then I try and expand on it, to make up a composition for a painting, and it falls flat. Or dies completely. I just don't have it in me to create right now. Not even vent art. Not even simple scribbles or colors. There's nothing there. Nothing. 

This is my life right now. Nothing. Float along, go through the motions, feeling nothing, feeling empty. And I hate it. And what's bad too is that I don't want to do anything. Or go anywhere. I don't get joy or satisfaction out of anything so why do it? Why go there? Why try? 

So yeah. Flat, empty, nothing. This is me. And I'm sick of it.  

Thursday 3/31/22 Ugh

 Tomorrow is April. Time seems to be flying by, but also feels like it's at a standstill. It's weird. I'm looking forward to warmer weather and sunshine. I want to do more hiking and walks this summer, horseback riding and lounging outside. I'd really like to. I want to be more active, lose more weight (I've hit a plateau). I want to make memories. 

But my brain hates me.

I've been so numb lately. So blah in everything I do. There's no passion in me. Hell, there's nothing in me - I'm an empty husk. I can play it off that I'm okay, for the most part. I'd say most people can't tell that I'm struggling. But my fuse is getting shorter. I'm getting more irritable and down. But still so empty. I keep feeling like if I could just cry - get it all out - I'd feel so much better. But I can't. I physically can't cry. There's nothing there. No emotion. I've tried forcing it to no avail. Because there is nothing there. I'm so numb and empty and blah. Anhedonia and apathy are my playmates from hell. And I hate this. So. Fucking. Much. 

I woke up this morning feeling pretty low. I had no motivation for anything. I didn't want to leave bed. What's the point? But I did. I took Ayden to school, had breakfast, then went back to bed. For an hour. I had to force myself to get up and shower. But I did. And I went downstairs and painted a little bit. But I didn't enjoy it. And I think my work shows that. So I stopped. I had lunch, did laundry, and now I'm writing all of this. I'm so tired of feeling nothing. I'm so tired of faking emotions. I'm so tired of everything. Why do I have to go through this? All. The. Time. All. My. Life. I'm sick of it. I'm seriously considering calling in sick to work tomorrow, just so I don't have to pretend. Because nothing brings me joy or happiness or satisfaction or contentment or anything. I feel nothing or I feel irritable. What a way to live. 

I keep thinking I should be grateful that I'm not deep in a bad depression. That I'm not fighting suicidal thoughts (though I still have them from time to time). But somehow . . . this almost feels worse. I'm so tired of pretending. Everyone expects me to be okay. And I think that people would be tired of it if they knew the truth. I mean, I'm tired of it, why wouldn't they be?

So I'm floating along, trying to keep my head above water. It's not easy. Nothing is easy. Ever. I hate this. So. Much. And while I teared up writing this, I can't fucking cry.