Sometimes I feel like my depression is better, that this is just grief and anxiety. But even if it is, it doesn’t feel any easier. Maybe I can enjoy things more, sort of- I was able to paint this weekend- but on the other hand I can’t seem to write creatively. I had a short story due and for the first time since junior year of high school (about a decade ago), I missed a writing deadline. It was just like my brain wasn’t there. And while I can blame anxiety for my procrastination on my math homework, I can’t on the writing. Not fully. I just don’t feel creative. It’s like I don’t have the mental energy.
And sometimes I don’t think the depression is better, not significantly enough. I still feel like I can’t be normal, that I can’t relate to anyone remotely normal. I feel like (am scared?) that I’m going to be alone forever, that I’ll never find someone who I want to spend my life with and who wants to spend their life with me, let alone find them in time to have a family. I’m scared I won’t be able to ever experience pregnancy because of PCOS anyway.
I’m a mess this morning. If this is grief, I thought it was supposed to get easier with time- because it doesn’t feel like it has.