Just Another Mundane Monday

I'm writing this post from my bed, still in my pyjamas and it's almost 1pm. Mondays are the worst. For most people it's because the weekend is over and they have jobs to go back to, early morning starts and snarky bosses, but for me it's because I haven't. The first time I opened my eyes this morning was just after 9am when my phone buzzed with a rubbish spammy email and I rolled over and went back to sleep. I continued to sleep with my head full of mixed up dreams until eventually I allowed myself to wake up with my head feeling like it was full of sand. I still couldn't bring myself to get out of bed. After all, what would be the point? 

When you're unemployed and struggling with anxiety like I am, small everyday tasks can become much more of a chore. Just getting up and facing the day is hard when I have absolutely zilch to do and that often brings along feelings of being pointlessness and feeling useless too. Most days I am pretty good at finding little things to keep me going. I typically aim to get up in time to watch This Morning, I enter competitions, I blog and read blogs, I bake or do some DIY crafting and if all else fails there's always Netflix. I often catch myself looking out the window like I'm trapped in a tower, only my prison is of my own making. Today though I don't feel like doing anything, I just want to lay in my bed. 

I'm sorry this post is so self-indulgent. I usually try to fill my blog with happy things even if I'm not happy 100% of the time but writing this seemed to be the only thing I could focus on. Anxiety can be a funny thing because it can manifest in lots of different ways. Today I'm feeling pretty detached, and while that might be better than constantly feeling on edge or in a state of panic it can be just as scary to feel nothing. It's funny because I'm very good at convincing myself that I'm fine, I'm so happy in my little bubble most of the time, but I have to pinch myself and remember it's only because I've shut everything that makes me anxious out and I'm living within the tiny radius of my comfort zone. It only takes something small to knock me sideways, and I suddenly realise I'm not ok, I'm not ok at all.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this so I think I'm going to end there. I already feel better just for writing. I've been promising left right and centre to make an appointment at the doctors and take steps to tackle my anxiety but I still don't feel ready to yet. If you've been through anything similar please let me know, I'd love to hear your stories.



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