Here I am again, because my hand can’t form legible sentences.
Had a Zoom with a neurologist this afternoon; he was my age.
I half want to be left alone and half need support. I know I need therapy, but that takes money I don’t have.
I fell earlier. I fell yesterday. I’m sick of falling.
It must be cutting my anxiety/depression meds that’s making me feel extra crazy.
I feel like I’m not an actual person participating in the real world right now. I want to do more; I want to want to do more.
Part of me wishes I could just sleep all the time, but my body literally hurts if I lay down too long. I get so tired of sitting on this bed where I’m “safe”, so I sit out on my porch and smoke (MJ) until I’m able to dull the boredom and care less that my life is wasting away. Then I have to get myself safely back to my bed; ten feet feels like an impossible distance and the MJ just makes my symptoms worse. It’s a nasty cycle, but it keeps me from staring at the ceiling as much.
Last updated October 19, 2022