I thought I was doing better last week.
I went out, I saw people, I did all the things. I think the actual fact of it was that I was too busy to notice how fucked up I was. This week I’m not, and I have fallen over completely. Crying at the drop of a hat. Feeling guilty about needing time to study. Feeling even worse about taking time to myself to the point that I’m not. If I can’t drop it instantly to deal with family/house/baby I’m avoiding it entirely…
We leave for camping on Wednesday and I’m back to not wanting to go. Afraid I’ll just fuck it up for everyone else.
Here’s to the tears. Another week of surviving. Another round of medication changes. And another week of one foot in front of the other regardless of the brain.