I thought I was getting better. I thought the intrusive thoughts were being held at bay and the sudden bursts of crippling loneliness were gone but I couldn’t be more wrong.
It settles in like a curious feline. Marking every inch and corner. Making itself at home. In a crowd of people I find myself alone. The environment around me becomes a roaring ocean and I am lost at sea. I’m not sure if I can swim my way out this time.
Anxiety fuels the beast named loneliness. And they reunite like two old friends sitting down for a beer. The two friends bring up reminder after reminder of the good ole days when they partied every day, using my body and mind as a playground. Welcoming in their other parasite friends, such as depression and panic.
It hurts more than I remember. As I lay in bed and barely summon the strength to do small tasks. This is what my weekends look like. During the week I simply settle into mindless routine that requires me to be busy and thoughtless. I prefer that part. I pretend that it’s my own choice I’m not feeling anything but I know better than that. The only emotions I am feeling are the negative ones. Anger seems to take root most of the time. It’s easy to give into. I wonder how long it will take me to snap out of the haze this time. To at least ride another manic high until I get pulled down into the valley again.
12-19-20















