I am unfortunately sinking into a depression. I can feel it in my chest, every bit of progress it makes. And the only way I could even describe the sensation is this image from Game of Thrones. It’s when Dany goes into a scalding hot bath and, her eyes fixed blankly forward, just slowly goes into until she’s submerged.

The unfortunate thing is I want to write. I want to specifically talk about these feelings and try and work through them. Though when faced with the reality to do it, I hesitate. Trying to get myself to move past these emotions is a herculean task. And I have things to discuss, topics I want to hit, but I just lack any motivation.

Lately, the only “motivation” I have had is to “run away.” When I think of… Where things will inevitably conclude with my husband, I imagine myself just taking off for a month and driving the country solo. When I had voiced this desire to Charlie, he brought up a very, very good point, “what about my family?” Being the knight I long to believe I am, I realized that wasn’t an option. At least, not for awhile.

So, the desire lingered, but frustration was attached to it. Sometimes I pull out this “want” whenever I delve into my misery, and today a new emotion floated up. What do I do in these towns? I thought I would just sight-see but alone. I will be alone. That realization brought me pause. Is this something I really want to do? Yeah, it sounds like a good idea now, as the tide is rising, but no matter how much space is put between me and home, the water travels with me.

I notoriously don’t know how I will respond until I am in that moment. I like to think that I have a frim grasp of my emotions, but I am a mystery even unto myself. Things I always thought would upset me, when faced with it, I was fine.

The other day, I was doing a re-watch of “Dungeon & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves” and there is a line that my husband croaked back at me.

“That’s you,” he said.

“What is?”

“You are at your strongest when you think you’re at your weakest,” he restated the line to me.

Right now I don’t feel very strong. I really do feel weak. I’m worn out. And I don’t know if losing these things that have caused me anxiety will be good or not. For instance, tomorrow is the day we are supposed to close on the sale of my parents house. My childhood home. I’ve said my goodbyes to it (y’know, like a weirdo) and I am looking forward to it no longer being a drain on my limited resources. But then it occurred to me, this is just one more loss from “my childhood.”

Once my husband passes I will be in a new age. Everything from my youth will have been taken from me. It is the natural progression of things, but… when faced with it I am just overwhelmed.

Which is why I think I’ll fix my eye to the horizon and just keep driving. I’ll take a month off of work and just run… But most likely, I won’t.

My journalism professor once said that there is a story in everything. Even in the lack of one lies the question, why isn’t there? That’s what I’m telling myself now. As it turns out I have nothing to write about. I don’t want to write. I just don’t feel like it. It’s been much of the same for me since the holidays and try as I might I have nothing left to give. I’m exhausted.

Obviously, some part of me wants to, or else I wouldn’t be here now. Yet as I attempt to do this I just don’t know what I want to say. There is nothing of significance happening in my life, at the moment, that I want to share. And I have grown so exhausted with my own complaints that I don’t want to open up about those.

For the select few that may worry, I am medicated. Steadily, regularly, my blood stream courses with antidepressants so I don’t go off the deep end. I had to get back on them because for a brief moment I didn’t want to be around. I contemplated how I would do it, and what that would mean to those around me. That was the wake-up call I needed to put me back on them from my brief hiatus.

For a hundred percent transparency, I will say that the want to fade away has not gone. It’s just not as vocal or as active as previous. I’ve gotten to a place where “if a car hit me and I died, I’d be okay.” Or “if Russia dropped a nuclear bomb on California, they better do it where I’m not limping away.”

The BF doesn’t like those kinds of statements but… It’s how I feel.

The title is the last time I wrote. I stopped my year long project at my hubby’s birthday. The holidays just got me overwhelmed. (It’s amazing how little things can become overwhelming tasks for me.)

This legitimately made me laugh out loud. You hacked my website, huh? And… What? Are you going to leak all of my whiny/emo posts that are already open for public scrutiny? Oh no! Whatever will I do?

Please, don’t tell my friends and family members that I’m in a polyamorous relationship?! Even when my website is open to the public. Will you send them the public link to the post where I explain, in detail, about my infidelity?

Are my secrets out?!

Whatever shall I do!?