It’s already Wednesday afternoon and I have squandered the week. Monday was a day where I was so depressed that I couldn’t get out of bed. Those types of days have decreased over the past few months but Monday was one of those days that hit me like a ton of bricks. Yesterday I was able to shake it a bit and was functional enough to do a few of the things on my personal to-do list. Because of how I was feeling Monday I flaked out on working out so yesterday saw me making up for Monday and also in doing Tuesday’s workout. My husband and I started doing Daily Burn via our Roku 3 and it’s been great having someone to workout with. However, I will say that I’m concerned that I’ll become the type that needs to workout just to feel okay. Sure, it was great, those first few days. I did feel an extra boost in energy but then there I was, over analyzing the whole thing. I already have issues with depression and I am fearful that that depression will be amplified on the days where I can’t coax myself into working out for that additional endorphin high.

In recent conversations with my husband I have been very critical of myself. Yesterday, as he drove me to a doctor’s appointment, I told him that I was again feeling like a complete failure. Then, later in the evening I was doing some prep work for filing our taxes and sank even further into despair when I was faced with the very stark comparison of my new life to that of my old one. Financially we’re sinking. February will be the first month where I don’t think that we’ll be able to pay all of our bills. We’re drowning in medical and credit card bills as well as in my inability to snap out of my feelings of despair and worthlessness. I have work to do but my mind is stuck worrying about things that are presently outside of my control. Better yet, it’s stuck on things that I shouldn’t be giving attention to. I suppose it’s the breaking down before building up period. There is a lot to be grateful for but even in the home that we’re sharing with my brother, I keep myself completely closed off. I stay in our suite because my OCD prevents me from venturing into other parts of the house. I’d say that I was silently suffering but it’s not true, the majority of the time I express how I feel to my husband. But he too is hurting. Whether it’s the pain of him not seeing his daughters as much as he’d like, or him being unhappy with being 50 years old and living with his wife’s brother, I know that he’s struggling too.

“Am I a horrible person?” I asked him yesterday. I know that it wasn’t a rational question but I was so beaten down by everything. Exasperated. I felt that professionally I’d paid my dues, that I had done what I was supposed to. I always excelled, I always out-shined my peers, but here I was drowning personally and professionally. I walked away from the only life I’d known for a decade and in doing so I feel as though I have been aimlessly walking through what is now the drudgery of everyday life. In these past few moments I was feeling so terrible that rather than starting to work I felt that I needed to write, something else that also pains me. I enjoy it but… it’s all just an absolute mess. I can’t get outside of my head and outside of these feelings. I know that I’m still mourning. Last year was a difficult one and it’s ridiculous to think that there’s some clinically defined moment where I’d feel better. I’ve had singular moments where I did feel hopeful, but those are few and far between. As a whole, when I have the energy, I try to keep up appearances and I ride that moment until I’ve sucked all of its marrow. But inside I feel like I am but a shell of the person I was in my 20s. Sure, my 30s have brought about some clarity, some better understanding and acceptance of who I am, but it has also brought me to financial ruin. For the first time I began thinking about whether or not I made the right decision. Being self-employed is hard. And while I do have clients that I really enjoy working with, it’s an entirely different world from the one I’d always known. The thing about life is that there are periods where when it rains it absolutely pours. One bad think happens and before you know it it becomes a dog pile of bad things that seem to start but there is no visible end. I’m trying to be hopeful, trying to put things into proper perspective. I’m just trying to make it day to day. It’s hard as hell. Some moments are better than others. I don’t want to chase after the great moments before being able to better understand and cope with the many moments in between.