I’m feeling very fragile today. I had an extremely emotional day yesterday and it’s just taken it out of me. I’m feeling overwhelmed by life and I’m finding it difficult to see positives around me.
I despise this aspect of depression. I hate feeling so low and incapable of even small things. I hate feeling frightened of interacting with people. I hate the struggle that every moment brings.
It’s also depressing because even in my positive moments I know that at some point down the line I’m going to feel rubbish again and I’ll have another breakdown. When my sister was younger she once said something to the effect of “When you fall over, what’s the point in getting up? Because you’re only going to fall again later.” At the time I laughed at that perspective, and the fact that a young girl would say something so deep. But it often comes to my mind nowadays as an apt description of what anxiety and depression can feel like. What’s the point in trying? Will it really ever get better? Why should I make all this effort to remain sane if I’m only going to descend into panic anyway at some point later on?
Right now, I don’t know the answers to those questions. But there is that small bit of my mind, the more rational part, that reminds me, “It may look bleak now, but it won’t always. There is a point in trying, but you can’t see it right now. Persevere, and things will get better.”