I've become the adult equivalent of an unsettled baby. Grizzly, uncomfortable, and becoming increasingly frustrated that I'm unable to communicate exactly what it is wrong with me. Another day's gone by and I'm feeling the pressure on myself that I had done absolutely nothing with it. The action plan to go and start a new diet? Didn't happen. Going for a 30 minute walk? Nope. Desperately craving some form of vegetable but had Maccas instead? Yep. I can feel myself going down hill and having an internal argument that we're stronger than this - but yet still can't grasp on how to fix being so overwhelmed.
Five Twenty-Two AM.
I know this because this happens to be the sixth time I've looked at my phone in the past half an hour. I should have been asleep somewhere around three or four hours ago. This isn't to say I haven't tried. I absolutely did; my brain was all ready to switch off, my eyes hurts - there should have been nothing preventing sleep. Yet there was. I'm 90% confident I'm allergic to the smoke from our woodfire and where blissful sleep should have been - I was yet again re-jolted awake with a runny nose and continual sneezing fits. I wonder how many clarentine tablets you can take before you overdose on them? Honestly I wasn't in the mood to find out.
Somewhere along the lines, I've fallen asleep. I also awoke to a tissue stuffed up one of my nostrils, so apparently the whole runny nose business got to me at some point during the last few hours. I still feel groggy as all hell and start to consider how much I'm not appreciating this sleep schedule. In fairness to my body - I'm getting my five to six hours, just not at the right time. I tell my Mum about it, she suggests I should probably get sleeping pills. I don't disagree.
Productivity today has so far been that I found three new species of fish on animal crossing, and planted a new row of trees. Again, I ponder of the fact that I should be up and walking around. That I spent an ungodly amount on work out gear that's just sitting in the bedroom. 4KG weights aren't fun to trip over, yet that's the apparent purpose they're currently serving. There's a lot of judgement. Not to anyone else, but only to me. Why exactly can I not get up and actually leave the house and do what I need to do to feel better? Why am I having consistent arguments about how things should go in such a time where everything is all topsy turvy? A better question is why am I even talking to myself? Surely it's from being stuck inside.
... which. Could be fixed.
By going outside.
Which I still can't seem to do.
The blog post that was originally meant to be posted on Sunday sits awkwardly in my drafts folder. It talked about how Easter didn't feel all that special any more, and whether or not that you needed to have little ones to respark that magic.
I feel like I need a lot of magic at the moment.
My sparkle bar is sitting very low.
I've given up trying to find a different photo to display for this post, and lazily accept that getting up to find my hard drive is too much effort. Everything just seems like an effort. I keep looking for silver linings throughout the day -and there's been plenty of them. Like how one of my plants has sprouted new leaves, and I've sort of taught Wally a new trick.
But there's just this ongoing overwhelming blanket that smothers the good bits. I'm getting snippy towards the people in my family, and just wanting to get out and speak to others. I'd kill for a coffee date. On the flipside, I know how many messages are currently sitting in my inbox unanswered as I just don't have the energy to reply to the people who have so kindly reached out. I feel like a failure wrapped up in a few extra layers of weight. (The new stretch mark on my stomach confirms that.)
The colder months already bring out the worst of my anxiety and depression, and I'm cautiously suspicious how this year is going to go.
I'm exhausted already.
I just want some form of normality back.