I was talking to my sister today, because I’ve been completely overwhelmed lately, and after she helped me chillax (because she’s the best sister–which, really, is convenient, since I only got one), she asked why I haven’t been blogging lately.
My knee-jerk answer was, “because I’m a terrible blogger and I have no ideas.” Which, though true, isn’t the whole of things.
Lately I haven’t been doing too well, you guys.
We’re moving (which I believe I’ve already said on here, but if I haven’t, there it is). It’s not like we’re moving to a different country–or even a different city–but I’m finding that it’s taking a huge toll on me. Mentally, more than anything, though getting the house ready to sell is also physically draining.
I just want to lay in bed and never leave, which, for me, is not an encouraging sign. I’ve been sleeping for too many hours and hiding from responsibility, also signs that I’m rolling right on down the hill of emotional health.
The first time we moved, this happened, too. I understand that I have had a great life up to this point. I have a very large family that loves me, I’m well provided, and the things I want to do are supported. When we moved the first time, we only moved forty-five minutes away from my home town, and I even still go to school there.
Be that as it may, that move devastated me. My life as I knew it was uprooted, and I didn’t transplant into my new life very well at all. The house was wrong, the school was wrong, and my few friends seemed to be across an insurmountable distance.
I closed off, I hid, and ended up in a crippling depression.
To be fair, I was on a medication that only spurred that descent, but the secret that nobody tells you is that when you get depressed, it doesn’t just go away, no matter how it got there in the first place. It’s like you got pushed into this big pit, and once you scramble your way out, you’re always only a few steps away from it, and it’s very easy to fall back in.
Several times since that first bout, I’ve felt myself falling back into it. Some spells are shorter than others. They can last anywhere from a few days to a few months. I’ve always managed to pull myself out of it before it passed the one-year mark that the first and most devastating round hit.
I’ve learned to recognize the signs, and I’m starting to show them again. Motivation down, despair up, communication limited.
A lot of it is unpleasant memories of the last time we moved, sure, but I think it’s a lot of things I just can’t control that are piling up at once. I have a good number of very good friends that are leaving, my brother is moving out soon, and this move felt like it was sprung on me very suddenly and I was left to scramble to catch up with the fact that it’s happening.
Anyway, that’s what’s happening, and is a large part of why I haven’t been posting. (Also the fact that I’ve been inordinately busy lately.)
But don’t worry about it, either–I will be totally fine, I have become proficient at forcing myself to not succumb, and I’ll be peachy keen in no time. I’ve just hit a slump, friends.
100% bug me to write a blog post if I miss a day. It will help more than hinder, whether this slump is still slumping or not.
Sorry for the more somber tone, but that’s where I am right now, and I try to keep this blog me, you know? It feels very fake for me to write a comedy piece when it’s insincere.
As always, thank you for reading, and please come back for more, of which there will be. 🙂