Mountain Out of a Molehill

Every. Single. Thing. Becomes harder when you’re suffering from depression. It takes me about 2 hours from waking up to get out of bed, and on really bad days all that means is I move from the bed to my sofa with a blanket. I can barely manage to do any task that needs to be done. I can’t even pick up the phone to call and book another counselling appointment.

Today, I didn’t even have to energy to write, which says a lot for me at the moment. But I got it all off my chest and managed to cry, another thing I’ve not been able to do lately.

Everything is gargantuan. Everything takes about 100x the energy to think about doing, then another 100x energy to actually do it. Everything is a mountain.

On top of that, I’m sleeping terribly. My dreams are stressful and laced with anxiety, and the rest of the time I’m awake in bed thinking about all of my problems and worries. I can’t switch off. I just want to sleep.

I spend a lot of time making myself feel guilty for the mountains I just can’t manage to climb. I feel guilty that I haven’t rang the counsellor yet, I feel guilty that I couldn’t make it to a local support group today, I feel guilty that I’m barely eating because I don’t have any motivation or desire to.

Yet when I do manage what are the smallest molehills to other people, I should be proud and celebrating the mountain I’ve actually climbed. Instead, I just expect myself to do all those things anyway, and mostly get annoyed still that it’s taken me so long to finally do it.

I need to be okay with myself if I don’t manage something, and be proud when I do, no matter the size. And what I’m also coming to realise, is that no matter how you try and do things to make your day better, sometimes it’s just not going to work, and that’s okay.

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