It’s Been a While…

I’ve been trying to be better about posting on a timely, regular basis for two reasons: one, it’s just good blogging etiquette; two, it’s┬ácathartic.

I’ve opened up the “write post” page so many times the past couple weeks, but I have not had anything to say. Or, more likely, I’ve had too much to say.

After the breakdown that led to me taking a break from grad school, I have been…fragile. God, I hate even saying that. I don’t like vulnerability, and I’m not comfortable with being weak. But. I have been. It’s just been a lot. My son got sick last week, pneumonia, I stayed home with him for two days. And the mom guilt kicked in. And the teacher guilt because I wasn’t at school. And the wife guilt, because I was home and nothing was getting done. And the guilt. Holy fuck. The guilt is crippling, and honestly one of the hardest parts of living with anxiety.

There’s been good days and bad. But that’s life right? When I can step outside of my head–rarely, let’s be honest here–I realize that I’m so lucky, because I have a great support system, a good job, a good life. But that also comes with guilt…why do I feel so terrible so often when I have a life so many people would kill for? I mean. It’s not like I’m chronically ill, homeless, desolate, abused, or anything. By all accounts, including my own usually, I have a great life.

Lately, more than anything else, I’ve been feeling empty. I don’t cry, I don’t scream, I don’t react. Just empty. I’m trying the grounding techniques I’ve been taught. Yoga. Meditation. Exercise. Reaching out. Cuddling my family. Cuddling my cats. And…nothing. Objectively, it’s scary as fuck. Realistically? I’m still just empty.

This, more than the guilt, more than the crying jags, more than the fatigue, more than the constant stream of “I’m sorry”s coming out of my mouth, is the worst part of living with mental illness. It affects all other areas of my life. Motherhood, marriage, teaching, family, friends. It’s hard to connect to anything when you feel nothing.

So. I keep persevering. I keep trying. And I kept coming back to this same damn page until I could word vomit my thoughts all over it. Jumpy, random, honest. This is me. This is what I’ve been experiencing lately. This is how life is sometimes.

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