My 2018: Loneliness & Finding Purpose

As the year comes to an end, it seems appropriate to reflect on 2018. In comparison to the drastic highs and lows of my 2017, this year has been calm. However, it hasn’t been without its own significance.

In 2017, Tom and I got married. I also spent a lot of time in mental health inpatient wards at local hospitals. We bought a house. I struggled with adjusting to prolonged unemployment and learning to cope with my worsened illnesses. These were the kinds of disjointed highs and lows that marked a very dramatic year. If I had to describe 2017 in two words, they would be: love & hospitals.

2018 has been much more subdued and I’m glad for that. 2017 was hectic, nonstop. 2018 has been, on the whole, slow and steady. There have been no hospitalizations or trips to the emergency room. There have also been no major life events like our wedding or buying our house. I’ve seen both improvements and regressions in my mental health. It’s hard to draw conclusions about 2018, it has been an inconclusive kind of year. However, if I were to once again pick two words to describe my year, this one could be summarized with: loneliness & purpose.


Loneliness

For much of 2018 I have been more secluded than ever. I seldom see anyone other than Tom. This isn’t due to any barriers other than my anxiety and depression. I have many amazing family members and friends who live close by and are eager to see me. I’m dying to see them, but I can’t. My depression causes a lack of motivation and drive to connect with my loved ones. My anxiety disorders cause me to feel sick at the mere notion of seeing others. Working in tandem, my illnesses led me to enter into a cycle of seclusion, which is proving hard to break.

Loneliness has had several impacts. It leaves me with a constant aching to see the people I love. I believe it worsens my depression, particularly my feelings of worthlessness. It also takes a toll on my physical health. Between this loneliness and my continued struggle to leave the house due to my agoraphobia, I’ve had to fight to maintain a sense of hope that my life has any real value. Much like 2017, 2018 has been riddled with long and low lows, high anxiety and suicidal thoughts.

To that end, however, I’ve seen improvement. I’m much more capable of managing my symptoms than I was in 2017. I haven’t needed to be hospitalized. I’ve come quite a long way in reducing my self-harm. I have a plan for when I become depressed. I have strategies that have helped me reduce the amount of panic attacks I have in my day to day life at home. I have skills that contribute to less onerous anxiety. I have strategies to cope with panic attacks when they come, which help them resolve more quickly and less painfully. I have a lot of work left to do, but there has been progress in these areas. I carried a lot of lessons forward from 2017 and these are some of the ones that have stuck. These have perhaps been my most notable achievements this year.

Purpose

Another achievement that marks this year is finding purpose. In December of last year, during my final hospital stay, my inpatient psychiatrist made a recommendation. The absence of work or studies since my health declined a few years ago has contributed to me feeling worthless and hopeless. With my frequent mental health related appointments in 2017, managing my mental illnesses had become my whole life. His suggestion was that I pursue some sort of volunteering or activity to help give me a sense of purpose.

The question became: What could I do from my own house, with minimal interaction with others, on a flexible schedule, that would fit in with my skill set and give me a sense of purpose?

Eventually, I created a volunteer opportunity that worked for me. I connected online with a young family of five in my neighbourhood. For a few months, I cooked a weekly healthy meal for them. It was perfect, I got to utilize one of my skill sets and interests for the betterment of others. For the first time in a long time, I felt I was making a valuable contribution to someone else. This continued until my depression worsened and I could no longer cook.

Around the same time, I also began volunteering for a political campaign leading up to an election I cared about. I was grateful to be able to place phone calls from home for the campaign. Taking on that responsibility was a significant challenge, as the phone is a source of anxiety for me. However, driven as I was to support the cause, I placed somewhere in the neighbourhood of a hundred phone calls in couple of weeks. On election day, I even pushed myself to leave the house and go to the crowded polling station to place my vote.

The most significant new source of purpose I have gained was in finding Letters Against Depression. I intend to write a dedicated post about this organization soon, so stay tuned for that. In short, Letters Against Depression offers a way for individuals who are suffering to receive encouraging and positive hand-written letters from volunteers. I began volunteering as soon as I learned about them, and I’m so glad I did. Writing these letters has given me an opportunity to help others, while also reminding me of all the things I have learned. Much like this blog, it is a way of taking this mental health nightmare I’ve been living for the past several years, and actually making some good come from it.

Of course, this blog cannot be forgotten. Since launching in late 2017, I’ve grown to understand that I have a voice and that there are people who want me to use it. Having always wanted to be a writer in some capacity, this has been amazing for me. This blog and my associated Twitter account are also responsible for a significant buffer to the loneliness I spoke of earlier. I have met some truly incredible people who inspire me, motivate me and make me feel I have something to contribute. I have written some pieces that I am very proud of, and have been moved by the positive feedback I’ve received as a result. I continue to learn and grow through the work I put in here. I continue to be grateful for it. In this blog, I’ve found a great deal of purpose.


I take comfort in knowing that despite the positives and negatives this year has brought, it was much more level than the year that came before it. Likewise, I’m comforted in things that have not changed, like supportive and loving relationships with my husband, family and friends. In 2019, I hope to continue my journey towards further stability. I want to learn more, do more things for others and write more. I hope to spend more time with people I love, and reconnect with things that anxiety and depression have stolen from me. In an ideal world, I’d like the opportunity to feel better too.

I’m wishing you all a warm end to 2018 and a 2019 that surpasses your wishes.

Take care,

Fiona

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Coping with Agoraphobia During the Holidays

This post is a part of Nicole Carman’s mental health-related holiday post series, “Taking Care of your Mental Health during the Holiday Season.” To see the post line-up for the previous and remaining posts in this series, please visit this page on Nicole’s blog, Navigating Darkness. If you enjoy this post, please comment and consider sharing it on social media!

Holiday outings, gatherings and travel can all be stressful sources of anxiety and panic for individuals living with agoraphobia. There are, however, steps we can take to help mitigate the anxiety of the holiday season and increase our chances of finding joy in the festivities as this year comes to a close. With that in mind, I’m sharing some practical tips to help you cope with agoraphobia during the holidays. I hope these suggestions will help you keep the holiday spirit alive!


Set yourself up for success

During the holidays, you may find yourself being repeatedly invited in to situations that trigger your agoraphobia. The demands can be high with shopping, travelling, celebrations, religious services, outdoor activities, and more. The holidays are a time of togetherness and tradition, which can lead us to feel pressured to ensure we don’t miss out on a thing. It’s okay, and it’s healthy, to prioritize your needs during the holidays.

In advance of the holidays, formulate a plan that you are comfortable with. Make sure your schedule is manageable and that you aren’t going to exert yourself to a point of excessive distress. That might mean that you can’t do everything you would like to do or that is expected of you. Or perhaps you need to make accommodations to fit your needs. Be realistic with yourself and find a balance that will help you feel safe this holiday season. Managing your expectations ahead of time can help you feel more in control. Likewise, making realistic plans can lessen your disappointment or feelings of guilt over things you can’t participate in. The holidays are hard enough without blaming yourself for the things you can’t do.

Here are a few examples of accommodations you can make in order to minimize the toll of agoraphobia at this time of year:

  • Conduct your holiday shopping online.
  • Schedule breaks away from your triggers.
  • Offer to host an event at home.
  • Reduce your number of social engagements.
  • Limit your travel.
  • Plan to attend social engagements for a limited period of time.

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Photo by Walid Amghar on Unsplash

Start exposure early

You will likely be familiar with the concept of exposure therapy. For people with agoraphobia, avoidance can create a vicious cycle. There are few things more terrifying in my life than heading in to the holidays after months of seclusion. Personally, I know that it wouldn’t be healthy for me to jump in to the hustle and bustle of the holiday season without exposing myself to similar situations and settings in advance. Nor, however, would I be satisfied with avoiding the holidays all together. Even if you are not currently trapped in a cycle of avoidance, exposing yourself to situations that mirror those you will be faced with during the holidays might be a good plan and help you feel prepared.

Think of what your plans are for this holiday season and take note of the challenges they present for you. As someone with agoraphobia I struggle to leave the house, be in crowded spaces or open spaces and spend time in the car. Ideally, this December I would like to be able to attend family gatherings at my parents’ homes, go to a Christmas market, take a small road trip to visit my in-laws, and maybe even build a snow man or two. This list is daunting, so I am beginning to prepare myself.

Let’s say you are also planning a road trip to see family in December. A good idea would be to start preparing now. How comfortable are you in a car? If you are currently comfortable spending 5 minutes in the car in your neighbourhood, that could be your starting point. Make a schedule of when you will practice your car exposure. Ideally, you will increase the time you spend in the car each time you practice. Is highway driving more frightening to you than driving in rural areas? If so, build yourself up to being on the highway in short increments. Don’t forget to use your coping tools here. If music helps you feel safer, play music in the car! If you are the passenger and using distraction is effective, bring something in the car that you can distract yourself with! Celebrate your successes and don’t despair in the times when your anxiety gets the best of you, this is hard work. While graded exposure is exhausting, with practice, the situations that provoke your anxiety may begin to feel less threatening. Hopefully by the holidays you will be able to get in the car with a higher level of comfort.

Consult with any mental health professionals you see regarding your pre-holiday exposure. Their advice may be invaluable in helping you set achievable goals and develop coping strategies to help manage your anxiety during anxiety-provoking situations.

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Photo by Pexels on Pixabay

Plan for difficult situations

Inevitably, we will find ourselves in situations that make us uneasy during the holidays. Making accommodations for ourselves and practicing exposure can help, but those measures won’t remove all potential for distress. It’s important to have a plan in place for when you become anxious or panicked. Here are a few suggestions based on how I am preparing for any difficulties that arise from my agoraphobia this holiday season:

  • Address anxiety as it arises. Whenever possible, don’t allow it the chance to escalate.
  • Ask someone you trust to accompany you for your anxiety-provoking plans.
  • Assemble a crisis kit. My crisis kit is a collection of items that help me manage feelings of anxiety, panic and distress in order to keep me calm and limit the need to use maladaptive coping tools. A crisis kit should include items that work best for you. This might include items that engage your senses (which I have found to be a powerful distress tolerance skill), a list of your top coping tools, personal mementos that calm you, etc. When I feel my emotions spiralling out of my control, I reach for my crisis kit to find comfort, calm, and practical tools to address my distress.
  • Establish a safe place where you can retreat during outings. This might be the bathroom at a restaurant, the basement at your friend’s house or an indoor space adjacent to outdoor activities. You can use this space for planned breaks or as needed. Knowing there is somewhere safe to go can make a difficult situation feel more tolerable.
  • Keep anti-anxiety medications on hand. There is no shame in taking medication to help manage your anxiety. If you take an anti-anxiety medication on a ‘take-as-needed’ basis, it may be helpful to make sure your prescription is filled and you carry it with you during the holidays.
  • Have someone to call if you need it. Whether this is a loved one, your mental health professional or a local crisis line – ensure that you have someone to turn to for help. You don’t have to manage the holidays alone, there are people out there who care and will want to support you.

Maintain a routine

While this is can be a significant challenge at this time of year, maintaining a routine can help you feel more comfortable, safe and calm. I suggest that you try to maintain a sleep schedule, or at least ensure you are consistently allowing yourself a full night’s sleep. Eat healthily throughout the day and maintain your exercise routine. Try not to let your hygiene routine slip either – prioritizing showering or bathing, brushing your teeth and combing your hair can all help you feel more in control. Self-care practices can (and probably should) also be a part of your routine. If you need to stray from your routine, ensure your basic needs are still being met. The anxiety and panic of agoraphobia are often exacerbated when we are tired, hungry or don’t feel like ourselves. Maintaining a routine can also help you navigate your way more smoothly through the transitions into and out of the holidays.

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Photo by Brigitte Tohm on Unsplash

Be kind to yourself

I know all too well how harshly we, as people with agoraphobia, can beat ourselves up when we feel we have let ourselves or others down. This year, you may not make it to every party you’ve been invited to. You may find the holidays to be a chore rather than a celebration. You might not be able to travel with your family. You may not build a snow man. Agoraphobia is hard, harder than I can generally express. It can rob of us our most joyous celebrations and traditions, which makes it a most unwelcome guest during the holidays. Please, show yourself some compassion. I understand the frustration or disappointment you may feel in yourself, but I’m confident that you are doing your best. Fixating on your perceived mistakes will only make you feel worse, and may well make next year’s holidays feel like an even greater challenge. Be proud of the things you manage to do, celebrate any moments of joy, and dispense of the rest. It’s the season of giving, let this be your gift to yourself.


I hope that these tips and suggestions have helped you feel prepared to face challenges that come your way this holiday season. The above are recommendations based on what I have been taught by mental health professionals and strategies that have been most effective for me. This isn’t meant to be a substitute for the guidance of your trusted mental health professional. Sharing a diagnosis doesn’t erase our individuality – we will each respond best to different strategies. If something I’ve advised isn’t the right fit for you, forget it! You know yourself best. I hope you will let me know in the comments section below if this post has been helpful to you and if you would like me to share more practical suggestions like this in the future.

I send many thanks and holiday well-wishes to Nicole who organized this Holiday Post Series. I hope anyone reading will go read the contributions from the other wonderful bloggers who are participating in the series. I’m grateful to take part in this initiative alongside such fantastic writers, advocates and friends.

I’m wishing you all well and hoping your holidays are full of family, friendship, laughter and joy.

Take care,

Fiona

Challenging Assumptions: My Anxiety Triggers

Anxiety is complex. You may not know what it means when I tell you that I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Agoraphobia, Panic Disorder and Social Anxiety Disorder [click the links to learn more]. In short, my anxiety disorders lead me to react with excessive anxiety to triggers that do not always merit an anxious response. Anxiety permeates every aspect of my life, it is far more than a desire stay home and avoid social gatherings. I hope that in sharing my list of anxiety triggers I will help shed some light on how debilitating anxiety can be and hopefully challenge some false assumptions along the way.

The triggers listed below are my own – anxiety triggers differ greatly from person to person. The items on this list vary in their severity and the frequency at which they provoke my anxiety and panic. They are not all things I dislike or am afraid of, in fact many of them are things that I really like. In some cases I have a good understanding of why these triggers cause me distress, in other cases I have no idea. With all that in mind, here is a list of some of the things that trigger my anxiety and panic.


The List

Appointments

Being far from home

Being in the same space as other people

Caffeine

Cars

Changes in plans

Changes in temperature

Clicking publish or send on any form of online communication

Conflict (even if I’m not involved)

Discussing finances

Elevators

Excess stimuli

Feeling as though I can’t escape

Grocery stores

Hospitals

Intense sensations

Lack of sleep

Large groups of people

Leaving the house

Making mistakes

Malls

News (good or bad)

Not having a plan

Open spaces

Parties

Phone calls

Portrayals of suicide in media

Scary fictional stories

Seeing neighbours through the windows

Showering

Small groups of people

Talking in person

The dark

The outdoors

Unexpected noises

Walks


You may now be wondering how it is possible to be so sensitive and easily provoked to panic. I wish I could explain that to you. If you haven’t experienced an anxiety disorder you probably won’t understand what it is like to feel anxious, as though something truly awful might happen, in response to mundane things in your daily life. I have had Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Panic Disorder for many years, Agoraphobia and Social Anxiety Disorder are newer to me. I am still learning to understand my own anxiety and how to best manage it. It makes very little sense to me that I can become dizzy and hot, hyperventilate, have chest pain, feel weakness in my legs, shake, be disoriented and feel as though I am in imminent danger as a result of things as unthreatening as reading positive news articles. Being constantly anxious has had negative impacts on both my physical and mental health. Irritability, weight gain, hair thinning, moodiness, headaches, seclusion and muscle tension are just a few of the negative changes that my anxiety has contributed to. Anxiety has hugely impacted my life and my relationships.

Even if I employ as much planning and as many coping tools as possible, it is inevitable that I will come in contact with my triggers throughout my day and respond with anxiety. I have lived in near-constant anxiety for a couple of years now, because there is always a chance that one of these many triggers is just around the corner. The anticipation of something anxiety-provoking is often just as bad as the thing I am anticipating. Additionally, I still frequently experience increased anxiety or panic attacks without any identifiable trigger. I am slowly learning to tolerate my anxiety and panic, but my anxiety remains exhausting and incapacitating even as my ability to withstand the distress increases.

I write this because anxiety is misunderstood. When most people think of anxiety disorders they likely don’t imagine someone having a panic attack every time they shower without understanding why. You may not know that there are people like me who have been working for years towards goals like going outside for walks. The best way to understand how anxiety disorders affect someone’s life is to ask them about it, anxiety is a deeply personal experience. It can be easy to reduce anxiety disorders to chronic fear or nervousness: emotions that we can all understand. Anxiety is so much more than that, even I don’t fully understand it yet.

Take care,

Fiona

maybe someday…

I find myself repeating “maybe someday” an awful lot recently. My mental illnesses are currently making it difficult or even impossible to do things I wish I was able to do. Will I ever be able to go for a walk on my own again? Maybe someday. Will I ever work again? Maybe someday. Will I ever perform in community theatre productions again? Maybe someday. Will I ever be able to see my friends and family without discomfort? Maybe someday.

“Maybe somedays” are hopes, dreams, goals, aspirations. Sometimes maybe somedays are desperate answers to prying questions (i.e. “are you working again yet?”) that highlight things I can’t do that I feel sensitive about.

The hard part comes when I have to accept that despite my best efforts my “someday” hasn’t arrived yet. Last week I had to cancel my trip with my husband to Stratford, Ontario for next month. Stratford is my place. If you dissected me and turned my contents in to a city, it would be Stratford. Theatre (musicals! Shakespeare!), music, art, cute shops, restaurants, friendly people, parks, water, mature trees, etc. Whenever I go to Stratford, I feel like I am connecting with something that is truly a part of myself. I used to go every year. I haven’t been able to go since 2015, since my depression and anxiety worsened. I dared to dream I could manage the trip this year. There are no words to convey how sad I am that I can’t.

Maybe someday. Maybe someday I will return to Stratford.

I digress.

Maybe somedays can be uplifting or heartbreaking, it all depends on perspective and circumstance. Maybe someday means that there is hope, but not immediately. I know I’m not alone here, I know that many people with illnesses of all forms are torn between hope and desperation over the things they are currently unable to do.

I try goal setting, I try to gradually work towards being able to accomplish what seems so out of reach. This too can be either motivating or discouraging. I can see myself making progress and rejoice in small victories. “I left the house! Take that agoraphobia, that’s what progress looks like!” I can also see how very inconsequential my progress is, fixate on how many more small steps there are before I reach my goal and how these steps continue to be so draining. “So what if I left the house? Most people leave the house every day and most of them can do it alone without panicking.” Don’t even get me started on how it feels when I compare my current goals to the ones I had a few years back when I was unknowingly blessed with decent health. Comparison is fuel to the fires of depression and anxiety, and those fires are already burning me too much.

Lately I feel like I am being suffocated by my maybe somedays. They seem unachievable, completely out of reach. I’m not blind to my progress over the past couple of years, but there is far more ground ahead of me than what has been covered.

I could fill thousands of pages with my maybe somedays. I cower under the magnitude of the things I can’t do but wish I could. My maybe somedays range from things as seemingly small as, “maybe someday I will be able to do the groceries” to, “maybe someday I will be healthy and stable enough to be a mother”. They can be both things that others take for granted and things that are a challenge for anyone. It can be incredibly tempting to just stop trying. My husband has heard me more than once contemplate whether I would be happier if I just gave in and lived like a hermit, if I just accepted my limitations and stopped trying to overcome them. In my more rational moments, I recognize that I can’t expect myself to do everything and that balance is important. In my less rational moments I wonder whether there is even a point of being alive with so many road blocks ahead of me. Is the amount of progress I need to make to be a functional human even attainable?

I don’t have answers. I think maybe the best thing is to try to focus on what I am able to do and try to build mastery of things, one at a time. Perhaps trying to quiet the looming thoughts about the bigger more heartbreaking maybe somedays would help me focus on more achievable short-term goals. All I can tell you with certainty is that I have been working tirelessly to improve my mental health for over two years now and as time goes on it feels like I am accumulating more maybe somedays than I am accomplishing.

Will I ever lead a full life unencumbered by illness? I don’t know, maybe someday.

Take care,

Fiona

Good Morning, Depression

This post may be triggering to some individuals.

9am – My eyes open when I hear my husband rummaging around our bedroom, getting ready for work. It’s harder than usual for him to find clean clothes, our laundry is piling up precariously high in the hamper. My dog jumps on the bed and comes to greet me. My husband says, “good morning sleepy head”, while I unclip my CPAP mask and turn off the machine. He kindly avoids alluding to my break down last night. I know from him getting dressed already that I have slept-in past my goal time of 7:30am. One of my first thoughts is how disappointed my psychiatrist will be when she finds out I haven’t been keeping a consistent sleep schedule. I remind myself that’s irrational, she will know how hard I am trying.

I slowly pull myself up in to a sitting position, noticing a crick in my neck, no doubt the result of mounting tension in my shoulders from high anxiety. “Great”, I think to myself, “more pain”. I was supposed to go see a massage therapist to help with the muscle tension in my upper body but I still need to figure out if that treatment would be covered by my husband’s health insurance. That’s a problem for another day.

I reach for my phone while my husband brushes his teeth. Last night a fellow comrade on Twitter was in crisis, I am hoping to see good news. I fell asleep shaken with the possibility that he wasn’t safe. There is strength in connection over social media, but the distance can sometimes make me feel so hopeless to help. I don’t see any news, I hold out hope that he will check in to Twitter soon to say he is safe.

My husband is back from the bathroom. He comes and gives me a kiss, says he is on his way out and he’ll see me later. I can’t hold back the tears. I wish I could cry elegantly like the ladies in romantic comedies. For the next ten minutes he comforts me, reminds me he will be home soon enough and that he can call me on his lunch break. Every touch from my husband gives me strength and courage. Every time he lets go I begin to sob all over again. I feel horrible, the last thing I want is for him to worry about me while he is at work. I have dealt with many trials from mental illness, but perhaps none so terrible as the dread of waking up and having to survive another day. I try to hide how much I am hurting, but I fail miserably at this practice. I calm myself down as best as I can and give him a final kiss. I don’t want him to be late. I suppress my sobs as he walks down the stairs, grabs his lunch and closes the garage door behind him.

After a few minutes of seeking strength from cuddles with my dog who so intuitively is clinging a little closer to me this morning, I get up to go to the washroom. Passing the vanity mirror I notice my reflection. Its distorted features bear a resemblance to Quasimodo. I had forgotten that I plucked my eyebrows out yesterday when the urge to self-harm was overwhelming me. My eyes are puffy from crying and dehydration, I must remember to drink some water today. My CPAP has left a distinct ring around my nose and mouth. My whole affect is droopy, the feeling of being weighed down that I have been dealing with for weeks can be read all over my face. “Invisible illness”, I say to my dog, “not so invisible today”.

The washroom is brighter than the bedroom. I wince as I enter it. I’d say that depression makes me feel like a non-violent vampire, but my affection for garlic denies me that claim. I reach for a pill bottle, but I don’t have one anymore having come off of my last antidepressant just a few days ago. There have been many attempts to find a daily medication that works for me, so far, no luck on that score. My bathroom routine takes longer than usual, mental illness at its worst wreaks havoc on my digestion. I skip brushing my teeth and hair, they are a mess but I am already drained from the few minutes I have spent out of bed. On the way out of the washroom I check that our medicine cabinet is locked, it is. My husband holds the only key, a security measure we put in place at the urging of my psychiatrist after one of my suicide attempts last year. It has often crossed my mind that I could break the cabinet open if I really wanted to, but the superficial barrier of the lock gives me enough pause to remember that is a bad idea.

I change in to a fresh pair of pyjamas. I have steadily accrued a large array of sleepwear; my agoraphobia has been crippling for the last two years so I seldom leave the house. Being comfortably dressed in pyjamas just makes more sense. As I slip on my stained pyjama bottoms I remind myself that putting on day clothing might help me feel more put together; working from the outside in and yada yada. But truly, that’s a struggle for another day. I remember the counsel my psychiatrist gave me last week, “Your job for the next two weeks is to wake up at the same time every morning, eat all three meals and stay out of your bedroom during the day. The rest is gravy.” This is sage advice, focussing on anything else right now might stop me from meeting those seemingly meagre goals.

Pyjamas on, I succumb to the will to crawl back in to bed. My head is pounding and my breath quickening. I figure I’ll relax for a while to ready myself to walk downstairs. On a better day the walk downstairs would be nothing to me, but today it is daunting. In bed I scroll through world news, frequently thinking how messed up our current political climate is. I consider texting my friends, but really who wants to hear from me? I spot that thought distortion, my friends routinely try to reach out to me. Nevertheless, that sentiment feels real today. My dog whines, he wants to play – I respond by snapping at him. I lower my head in shame, am I really irritable enough to take it out on my dog today? I gather him up in my arms and show him love. I fall into a slumber.

Waking back up, I resolve to make my way downstairs. I can’t bring myself to prepare breakfast. Instead, I find my usual place on the couch, allow my dog to jump up on my lap and begin watching the same TV show I have watched over ten times in the past couple of years. The familiar story helps distract me from the agony of my own thoughts. It’s now just past 11:30am, two and a half hours down, far too many more to go.


Take care,

Fiona

Photo by Alex Boyd on Unsplash