On days like today, I can’t make sense of anything. I can barely get out of bed, and asking me to leave my house is asking too much.

On days like today, I feel like screaming, and crying, and curling up in to a ball-all at the same time.

On days like today, I am fighting myself. Fighting to feel anything. Fighting not to feel everything.

On days like today, nothing makes sense. I wonder if it will ever feel better on days like today.

On days like yesterday, and the day before, I do everything I can to prevent, to avoid, to tolerate days like today.

I wake up to a orange bottle filled with small white pills that are supposed to make me feel a little more normal, and a little less sad.

I make sure to call my family, to tell them in excruciating detail how I’m feeling and what I’m dealing with.

I don’t drink alcohol, on the fear that someday that will become my own form of dangerous, self-medication.

I see a professional, once every two weeks, and we talk about how I’m doing, what’s making me anxious, and how we can work on it.

I see my friends regularly, to remind myself that there are people on this earth who love me as I love them.

I paint, and color, and write, and read to try to slow down my thoughts that sometimes make me mad.

I listen to books at night to keep my mind from going to dark places, to fall asleep and dream like normal people.

I do that and more everyday, and I still can’t avoid days like today.

And that is ok. Its ok to want to be alone, to stay inside all day. To struggle to feed myself. To not know what will get those feelings out.

It’s ok, because tomorrow could be a better day.

And even if it isn’t, there will be a good day again.

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