I Couldn't Function Today, but That's OK


This morning, I woke up at 4 a.m., 30 minutes before my boyfriend’s alarm goes off. After having the flu all weekend, I felt surprisingly well, energized. I laid there until his alarm went off, we woke up with a kiss good morning like we always do. And then, he started making the coffee.

We sat outside and drank our morning coffee, he got ready for work, he took the dogs out on a walk. I started feeling kind of bad again so I rested and watched the news. 

I took him to work, came home and took a nap. I spent most of my morning waiting on the maintenance guy to show up to my apartment. While I waited, I made pizza and then I tried and failed at writing, I responded to old emails, and I tried writing some more. I even tried to plan out a blog post, and that’s when it all started.

I ended up not being able to process things anymore. Suddenly, I couldn’t imagine writing the post I was working on. I sat on the floor and cried with the company of my boyfriend’s dog. I couldn’t breathe. Eventually, I got up to smoke a cigarette.

There was no writing left in me anymore. I couldn’t bear to think of what I’d have to do. I tried and tried but nothing was good enough. I tried working with clay, but I wasn’t good enough at that either. I tried painting my nails, and guess what: I ruined them. Not good enough to even paint my nails.

After the maintenance guy left, I was a wreck. Now, suddenly I was anxious that I had done something wrong. Maybe I messed something up, surely he found something wrong with my apartment and now I’m going to be kicked out. I don’t know what he would have found, I don’t know what in the hell is so bad that it’s worthy of my eviction, but I’ve been kicked out of so many places before that it’s one of my biggest anxieties now.

Between that and not being able to process things, I started breaking down. Crying at the simplest of things, growing violent at the smallest of things. Even now, I want to break my phone but I push through this feeling and keep writing.

I don’t know why I get this way, I don’t know what causes it; I can’t even begin to describe it. I just want the pain in my mind to go away. I want to create something and be good enough at it. I want to be able to process my thoughts so that I can write amazing pieces.

I can’t function right now, and that’s OK. I can’t do the simple things, but it’s OK. I wrote this and that means I’m still somewhere in there, alive. I was able to write this.

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Thinkstock photo via Fly_dragonfly

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