Why is it so hard?

I've been feeling a bit... disconnected from reality.  Some of this is Omicron hit and it terrified me.  Even more of my friends got sick, most of them are fine, but some of them have Long Covid symptoms and that sucks so much.  I've lost another 2 people in my circle and I'm so tired of death.  And now that Omicron is over I've been seeing pictures of people going out and living their lives and breathing air next to other people or eating inside restaurants, and I'm just all like, "What?"

And logically, I know that it is probably safe and even if I, or people I love got Covid, like my 98 year old grandpa, who actually did, it would probably be fine because we're all vaccinated and boosted and it should be fine.

But it's not.  It's really not.

So long story short, I am now in a DBT skills group and start a new therapist in addition to my old therapist and psychiatrist to start working specifically on my agoraphobia and OCD behaviors that impact my life so much.  

Because just even thinking about actually sending out an application for jobs sends me into terror spirals.  That's the level of agoraphobia I'm fighting here.  I've been inside a store to shop for groceries once since Omicron.  Once.  It's not easy.

So, I'm behind on writing, which is what mental illness looks like.  It's missing a week and then looking up and realizing 5 months have gone by.  It's realizing your depression is probably much worse than you think it is.  It's not even realizing the amount of supports and excuses and habits you've put into your life to hide from your mental illness so it doesn't hurt you so badly, and then realizing that all of that is just hurting you more.

This is hard.  Really hard.

More positive thoughts:

I've been working in my garden.  My current projects include turning my entire front lawn into a flower garden.  Actively weeding out the grass.  Encouraging wild flowers to grow.  If I get a letter from the county, I'm ready to fight it with evidence that I'm doing it on purpose and there aren't any weeds in the garden.  Dandelions and clover are bee food, dammit!

I've also been fighting the good fight with the poison ivy and english ivy in the back yard.  Trying to mow it down and remove as much as I can from the fences and the middle.  This battle is long, but I persevere, for now.

I've been going to doctor's appointments, and since going to one and forgetting all of my tools because I was running late, I have been more diligent at actively bringing my tools and pregaming with my legally prescribed meds.  Not a euphemism.  

I need my 1/4 of a tablet of Klonopin if I'm going to go in somewhere without overwhelming panic.  I am capable of going into that place without it, but my cognitive ability and reasoning lowers drastically.  I have difficulty remembering things during the trip and recalling what happened afterwards.  And the adrenaline dump afterwards sucks all of the life and energy from me.  So instead, I use the smallest dose I can, and then I can function with minimum panic.  Unfortunately that is balanced by a vast amount of "I don't care."  I joke and describe it as my fucks are gone.  As in, "I don't give a."  Because the legally prescribed meds make me feel numb and awful and not care about things I really should care about.  Which is why I take the smallest dose.  And that helps, but I still hate them.  And I still need them.  And I still hate them.  And I still recognize I need them.

And they mean that the rest of the day, my motivation to get anything done is absolutely nothing.  Just like if I'd not taken them, but for entirely different reasons!  Lolcry.

I really wish there was a quick fix for mental health.  I really, really do.  Because it is so long and so hard and sometimes so hard to realize you still have to fight in the morning.  

But I am getting better.  Or rather, I'm still moving forward towards... I don't know.  The future?  I'm trying to make my life a life worth living, but I'm floating in indecision of how to do that in any meaningful manner.  

So tonight I write to you, beautiful people of the internet who may find this.  I hope you are not struggling as hard as I am, and if you are, solidarity.  It sucks.

And tomorrow I'm going to a matinee of the new Marvel movie with a friend and I'll take my meds, and bring my sensory kit, and wear my N95, and hopefully I'll be able to remember the movie.  As of right now, the theater isn't too crowded.  Fingers crossed it goes ok.  I mean, I know it will go and that alone will be a victory.  And I'm hoping that it goes okay, if you get my meaning.