Some people say I have issues. I say those people need to expand their horizons, because I don’t have issues, I have the Library of Congress.
Blackout by Mira Grant
I finished the Newsflesh trilogy this weekend, but I don’t feel like writing a full review. If you want to know my opinions, just ask. Overall, it was okay, but not as good as I expect from Seanan McGuire. Moving on . . .
The past few weeks have been a struggle for me. Not exactly sure why, although there are a lot of things feeding into each other. I’m not sleeping, I’m stressed, and I am mentally and emotionally tired.
But the overarching feeling is one I have been exploring since I started therapy: the idea and feeling like I am a failure. The best example I have is the thesis.
There is always the thesis that gives me piles and piles of anxiety. I hate it. I look at it and want to vomit. And when I’m feeling all kinds of mind fuzzy, I can’t get myself to move past the place I am at. I can’t write, I can’t think. I can just fade through life. I hate that. I can’t even read. Watch TV, but that’s because I don’t have to pay attention.
Focus and attention. Exhaustion. Feeling worthless. Anxiety. All of it. So I haven’t been suicidal in two and a half years. It still seems like a have issues. A library full of issues.
(And if this post is all kinds of hazy to you–imagine how I felt writing it.)