I've been in a dark place. I was there well before the Orlando shooting occurred, and even before the rapist scumbag and his disgusting low-life parents in California inundated my social media, but those events certainly haven't brought any hope in the despair. My sadness over everything that has been happening lately in the world and in my own life is deep, and I am exhausted.
I'm making an effort to keep breathing and do my best to climb out of this valley. I have been through some bad stuff - perpetually unlucky, according to friends who've been around a while - but I know I'm also fortunate in many ways. I tend to be overly aware (I suppose some would call that self-conscious) of my feelings and the fact that I need to pull myself together and get a handle on things. Sometimes, I succeed. Sometimes, I don't. This is one of the don'ts.
I've got nothing. I can't think of a thing to say or do or plan to do or even hope to do. I strive to always have goals so I have something to move toward, something to look forward to. I'm drawing a blank. I feel mortally wounded. Defeated.
I haven't given up. I reach into my cloudy head every day in hopes of grasping something worth holding onto. When migraines and sleep deprivation allow, I read fervently and listen to music. I eat when my body can handle it. Those moments vary. Occasionally, I overkill and eat too much. In fact, I need to lay off of candy once and for all - there's a mini goal if I've ever heard one.
I'll figure out it. At least I think I will. I often don't believe that. I've never felt like I belong in this world. I remain steadfast in that, but as I always say, I'm here and I'm doing the best I can. Sometimes my best sucks, but it beats the hell out of being six feet under, doesn't it? I guess that's all I can ask for.