This month? It is doing me in. I can't put my finger on it. But I am struggling to get though.
It's like I've encountered this wall of melancholy. And it's far too high to climb over. And it's far too long to get around.
So, basically, I'm just kind of sitting, leaning against it.
I'm trying so hard to make things work. But it's not working.
Or maybe I'm just too depleted to try very hard at all. And that's why it's not working.
Some things I can't change, or can't figure out how to change. Some things I wish would change, but aren't up to me to change. Some things might change eventually, but not in the near future. Some things I just can't figure out at all.
So I've been doing those things I know won't help (eating and eating and eating...), but seem to make it momentarily better. And even as I'm doing it, I know it won't last for more than that moment. But I do it anyway. And then I feel worse. Blah. Blah. Blah.
And part of me knows that it's temporary. That this, too, shall pass. And that part of me tells myself to hang in there, and ride it out; that it will all work itself out soon enough, and then things will get back to normal.
But that's a pretty small part of me.
Most of me is just filled with a stupid amount of guilt and sadness and self-loathing, a whole mountain's worth, sitting right on my shoulders, hunching me over and weighing me down.
Here I sit. Waiting for something, for me, to change.